The Reflecting Pool

I love to visit the reflecting pool at the Maclay house, especially at dusk. As the sun sets and the insects and small animals move about, I sit quietly and wait. Most people come here to see the camellias, but I come here to sit by the pool. The park closes at sunset, but when is sunset exactly? It gives me a little leeway to stay a bit too late, and to walk the path past the striped, fragrant and exuberantly colored flowers.

Why do I risk getting caught, staying past closing time? I am here to see what I saw once, and can never forget. I am here to remember that it’s real, and that I didn’t imagine it. I am here to face my fear.

The Maclay gardens are an exquisite juxtaposition of order and chaos. The intentional plantings, of both native and imported species are maintained to create an outdoor art museum of natural beauty. The wealth of lush and positioned flowers, shrubs, trees and pools create an enchanted world. With a cornucopia of colors, textures, and spacing, the stone and brick walkways, planters, fountains, and objets d’art, complete the ensemble.

I came here, the first time, alone, and walked the lush tropical grounds, and explored the various themed gardens. I marveled at the ornithology and residential displays in the historically preserved home.

I dawdled, but I didn’t want to miss the hidden garden, even though it was getting very late in the day. I followed the map, to the reflecting pool, and gasped, aloud, when I found it. The long stretch of cool water, centered the narrow view of the vertical blue of the nearby lake, as it blended into the sky. All were framed in a perfect symmetry of low and tall greens.

I stood and stared. Then I sat down and lingered. I am not sure what I was waiting for other than the will to get up and move on. Move on with my day, and move on with my life. I had been so sad, and alone, but here, I was distracted by the beauty, and consumed by my need to be part of it. I was overwhelmed with reluctance to move forward without this view.

No one came to make me leave, as the tree shadows crossed onto the pool. I sat well past sunset. I knew I should be afraid of getting caught, and having the security guard come looking for the person with the lone car left in the parking lot. As I sat, I pondered making up a story about a twisted ankle keeping me from leaving on time, to keep me from getting arrested. Did either of my ankles look swollen enough to make the claim?

As I sat in the fading light, the gloom overtook my view, from outside and from within. I thought about my failed and strained relationships which had left me friendless and angry. As I sat there, assigning blame to others, I saw a shadow move at the base of the nearby trees. It was too big for a dog, and too short for a man. I tried to track it, but it was elusive and low. It wasn’t moving past me. It was lurking. I felt it was looking at me and I feared it was plotting an attack. I was afraid to breathe and afraid to move. Should I call out or shout? Should I get up and run? Hunting animals chase, so running might not be a good move. I felt as if I was made of stone, cold and heavy. I kept still, praying it would move on.

In the true dark, I saw its red eyes. Were they round or slanted, human, reptile or mammal? I could not tell by looking at them. I only saw the glowing red dots as they passed between the silhouettes of branches and leaves. I heard no sounds, so footfalls, no rustling, as it moved, and only marked a change in the position of its darkness amongst the brush. I didn’t feel that it was, or believe it to be, an animal at all. What was stalking me was dark, dangerous evil and I knew it. Had the evil found me or recognized me? What parts of my life am I living in the dark, I wondered?

I was afraid, as I grew to understand that the evil was from my own dark obsessions, pale kindnesses, and self-serving deeds and words. The red eyes were there to claim me as one of their own and pull me into the underbrush. I was frightened and saddened by the person, that I now realized, I had become. How did I get here? How could I have been given the blessings of health, intelligence, robustness and love, and allowed my undisciplined appetites to devour my goodness and potential gifts? I was that creature, dark and detrimental contrasted against the tiny bit of light still reflecting from the pool. As the night got deeper, the creature got closer, and I could tell it was breathing. I held my breath, or was that me breathing? Were those paws or hands, skin or scales? Should I slink into the deep shadows at the base of the trees and try to disappear?

Time stood still as I wrestled with myself. I was captured by fear and regret. Should I hide or face the fear and stand and move forward. The smaller night creatures came out and I saw them, indifferently, as they scurried by.

Then I remembered that I had a mini flashlight in my bag, and I took it out. I dared not shine it on the creature, but pointed it at my feet, and stood up. Using the light, I made my way slowly and carefully back to the parking lot and my car. I got in and closed the door and locked it. I wasn’t sure if I was locking the creature in or out of the car, but I knew the encounter was a warning from the demon within. I vowed to change my life, my habits, and my heart.

I still come back, infrequently, to the lovely gardens and stay long enough for the sunset and dusk to fall. I revel in the joy of the beauty and acknowledge the resolve it has taken for me to face the darkness and the creature, I found here. From time to time, I think it is good to remind myself that the creature is still dangerously near, and that I need to keep holding onto my light, and watching my steps, with all the effort, it takes, to leave the darkness behind.