carp dreams4
diary entry #31
when i was young, i would always walk home from school. my house wasn't too far, just about a mile away. both my parents worked and didn't have time to come pick me up. at the time, i did not know how to enjoy the walk. my mind was too occupied with thoughts about what i would do once i got home, what had happened at school, and what would happen tomorrow. i could not see what was before my eyes.
the path back home took me through a small backroads through the woods. i could have avoided taking that way, but it was about a minute or two faster. at some point, i found that path and it stuck as a habit ever since.
the walk through the woods was always peaceful. it was only a couple days per month when i would run into anyone else. while i was in that 7-8 minute stretch of forest, i was veritably alone in the world. even the cries of animals only seldom broke the silence. on that path, i would become so absorbed in myself and my own world that i never remembered much about the walk at all. it was as if i entered the forest, then some indefinite amount of time later, would exit. what happened in between was a blur.
there was one thing that i took note of, however. about two-thirds of the way through the trail, the path diverged in two directions. i saw that in the distance, one direction led to a small bridge, veering off-course. the other direction would exit near my house.
in the 10 odd-years that i took this path home, i never once took the bridge.
perhaps, i just lacked the curiosity. or perhaps, it was not yet time.
i've since moved far away from that town. i live in the city now, where there are no backroads through the woods, and scarcely any woods at all. there is no path home where i feel truly alone in the world. there is only the bustle of human activity all around, through day and night.
i could go back on day and cross that bridge. but it wouldn't be the same bridge.
that bridge that i never crossed on only exists in my memories. in my mind. in fact, that whole path through the woods, that whole walk home, that whole time spent as a child, may all just be my imagination. such is the terror of aging. the past gradually seems to fade away like dispersing smoke, until you're not even sure if it was ever real.
perhaps, none of this happened. but who can say that it didn't?
letter back home
i hope everything is well with you and your family. as you already know, i recently moved to ########. it's a quiet little city, a good place to settle down.
the house i chose is pretty old, but the location is great. the air seems much better than it was back there, and it's very quiet at night. sometimes, deer will wander into our yard. the first time it happened it was the cause of a lot of excitement in the family, because we've never seen them outside of a zoo.
couple weeks ago i was taking my daily walk around the neighborhood when i stumbled upon a trailhead nearby. judging from the lack of signage and the overgrown roots that criss-crossed the path, it must have been pretty old and not maintained. i decided to see where it led.
after a couple minutes into the trail, i couldn't hear any signs of civilization. it felt like i was alone in the world. just when i was sinking into that feeling of being one with nature, i spotted a bridge across a small stream to the left, where the path diverged into two. moss covered the bridge and the metal parts that fastened the wood together were coated in rust. thankfully, it didn't seem to have any signs of major wood rot.
curious, i decided to cross it.
the bridge creaked with every step i took, and i was prepared for it to break. somehow, it managed to hold my weight all the way across.
after a couple more minutes of walking, i arrived at a clearing with a pond. it seemed like this path ended there.
there was nothing too special about the pond. the water wasn't crystal clear, nor were the surroundings very picturesque. the surface of the water was crowded by a thick layer of green vegetation, and the only other notable feature was a large, moss-coated rock protruding above the surface . nonetheless, there was something about how the sunlight broke through the trees and met the water that made the entire scene feel like out of a fairy tale.
that's when i noticed a small ripple in the water. i stepped closer and saw a single carp, weaving in between the spiny plants in the water. it was not the prettiest fish, as carp tend to be, but there was something majestic about its existence. i imagined it was the guardian of this pond.
it must have been quite old, perhaps even older than me. it could have been as old as the pond.
where did it come from? i don't know. perhaps, it was the soul of someone who grew up here, many years in the past. a soul that returned back home.
[carp-dream] [carp-dreams1] [carp-dreams2] [carp-dreams3] [carps-end]