Where We Will Go

Everyday Hope walked to the lake that took residence just a few minutes behind her home. She waddled along a dirt carved path, picking up rocks and other things as she went. She looked at her purple rain boots as she went along, the ones she always wore so her shoes wouldn’t tarnish. She had stuffed pieces of granola and bread in her long coat pockets today so she could feed the ducks. 

Hope discovered the ducks this season in the heat of an August day. She had gone down to the lake to look at the tadpoles, she wanted to catch them when they turned into frogs. She wanted to see them change as her uncle said they would. Then, in the blistering grasp of Summer, she found ducks instead of tadpoles. The tadpoles were still there (and definitely not turning into frogs before her eyes), but she found herself drawn to the funny looking creatures of the water who made an awful lot of noise. Her uncle said they could swim, fly, and walk. Hope couldn’t swim then, or fly for that matter. She could walk. But surely these animals knew more. 

For the entirety of that month and well into September, Hope took bread crumbs from her kitchen cupboard and threw them into the lake. The flock of them basked in the sun, took turns to dip under the cool water and swarmed Hope whenever she brought food. She giggled and laughed with her new friends as she looked forward to seeing them each day. 

It was not unusual for their absence at times. Some days Hope would visit the lake and the ducks were not there, usually the next day they would be. It was not until late September that the ducks were missing just above four days in a row. On the fourth day, Hope had stopped bringing bread crumbs as she solemnly walked up to the lake. Her friends were not there. Her eyes welled up like giant saucers and she silently made her way back home. 

Walking through the back door, the smell of roasted apples and the hum of cicadas greeted Hope. She took her purple rain boots off and tried to wipe away her tears before anyone noticed. Her uncle had walked in at the same time unfortunately. 

He knelt down to her level and asked, “Why are you crying little Hope?” 

“My friends are gone!”

He looked confused, “What do you mean?”

“My friends!” Hope stammered. “The ducks! They aren’t at the pond anymore!”

At that moment, Hope was so upset that the tears started rolling again. This was a young sense of loneliness for her. At just six years old, she did not understand what it meant for things to come and go in life. She missed the ducks dearly and wondered if they were okay. The warm tears reddened her cheeks. Her uncle hoisted her onto the kitchen stool and tried to console her.

“Little Hope the ducks do not stay at the lake forever you know?” 

Hope shook her head. She did not know this. 

“Well little Hope,” he began with a soft smile. “In about a month or two it will be really cold here. It’ll snow and all of the leaves will fall down. The ducks want to be where it is warm all of the time so they fly South. They need a little change. Nothing here stays here forever little Hope, we are supposed to move around when we need change.” 

Hope nodded and understood as much as she could at that age. He wiped the tears from her face with a napkin and smirked, “Come on kid, you still have so much to know.”

Hope nodded and asked, “Will they ever come back?” 

Her uncle was caught off guard by the question and formulated an answer thereafter, “Maybe little Hope. You can’t ever be too sure. They might go to another place or another. Or new ducks might come. However, if they do come back, it’ll be because they want to. And because they missed you little Hope.” 

Hope smiled and instantly her young mind wandered on to other things, “Wanna go see the tadpoles?” 

Her uncle laughed, “Of course, let’s go see if there’s any frogs yet.” 

Hope didn’t bother to throw on her purple rainboots and pushed past the screen door in a full sprint, “I’ll beat you there!!” 

Twelve Years Later…

The smell of Summer signed the air like an autograph on a famous poster. Everyone knows the presence of a hazy June night. The dorms were lively at the college that night and most of the campus found themselves mingling under the string lights of the quad. The atmosphere was thick, the music was loud, and the conversations were light and hinting towards new beginnings. 

Hope felt the excitement writhing in her bones. It was her third week in college, her third week being thousands of miles from home. She had her California daydream at last. Her set of roommates had already become extremely close and they stayed together, moving within and without the crowd. 

At some point in the night, Hope, her roommates, and a few sophomores lingered away from the quad and made their way down South of the campus. The campus was lit up by beacons of light and they cast large shadows against the buildings as they went on aimlessly, lost in conversations. They soon found themselves at a small opening next to the greenhouse. A lake the size of a basketball court was dreamily lit up by fluorescence in front of them. An orchestra of cicadas hummed in the background as the group sat at the edge of the lake on the grass fringing its edges. 

Hope felt peaceful and warm, surrounded by her youth. She gazed dizzily over the lake that reflected the poignant shine of the stars. In her gaze, a ripple happened and a few ducks swam into view. 

Her roommate nudged her, “Earth to Hope! Whatcha looking at.” 

Hope laughed wholeheartedly and lay back on the grass, her eyes still fixated on the elegant water birds. “The ducks! I love them. Always have.”

One of the sophomores snickered, “Yeah, well get used to them. They’re loud when you’re down here trying to do work or anything. And they’re here all year!”

Hope looked over at him, “Really? Don’t they fly to where it’s warmer though? Like in the fall or something like that?”

“Nah… It’s warm year round here,” he said. “They like it here.”

“Yeah? Well I do too,” Hope said and leaned back to look up at the stars, soaking in the warmth of it all.