March 29, 2010

• See the Stream

  
  When my mother parked the car in the Medi-Mart parking lot, my younger brother, Tadpole and I would begin:

  “Mommy, can we go look at the stream?”
  “When we’re done shopping, yes… IF you’re good!”

  We’d ask her over and over while she shopped.

  It didn’t matter much to us if we’d just been to the beach. We wanted to go see the water.

  I do not know if that stream actually has a name. It’s awfully tiny. I think it connects to Mill River (Medi-Mart, now a Walgreens, was on the Southport-Westport line). If you were facing the strip mall, Medi-Mart was all the way to the left. Farther left was a concrete walkway (We always referred to it as “the bridge” – even though it was parallel to the stream.). We’d stand on the “ledge seats” (parts of the concrete wall that were lower and wider) and stare down at the stream.

  Sunny afternoons were the best. The sun would shine down on the water, and it would make all of the pebbles sparkle like little gems. Sometimes, in Spring, we’d see big groups of little fishies moving quickly in the water. They also looked like jewels when the sun hit them just right. There was always a froggy or two to be seen, and in the Summer, hordes of butterflies would zoom around in the flowery bushes on the far side of the stream.

  We were never allowed to climb down to the bank (it was private property). We’d just stand there, quietly watching the water and whatever wildlife happened to be there.

  The Summer before I turned thirteen (I am a September baby), we moved in with my grandmother, down by the beach in Fairfield. My grandmother was suffering from Dementia, and my mother was having a difficult time handling it. Sometimes, I needed to get out. The beach was crowded, so I’d ride my bike up to Medi-Mart (about five miles away, probably a little less). Usually, I brought a sandwich and a soda with me. I’d park my bike, and sit on the ledge. I would eat my lunch and watch the fishies and the frogs and the butterflies. Peace and quiet.

  Many years later, when my mother was showing the first signs of Dementia, after a visit with her (She was still living in Grandma’s house; I was not.), I’d drive over to Medi-Mart (It had been a Walgreens for years before that, but I still called it Medi-Mart.). I would park and then sit on the concrete ledge of the bridge for a little while and just watch. I could cry a little if I needed to. It helped clear and calm my mind. Peace and quiet.

  I think about that place now and then, that sweet little bit of water with the sun shining on it. My worries are different, and my location is different, but that need for a little peace and quiet is essentially the same. Until I find a place like that out here in Wisconsin, I let my mind wander back east – back in time, too – to see the stream. I think of the sunlight dancing over the pebbles and the little fishies. I visualize the froggies and the butterflies zipping around the flower-bush. Peace and quiet.

  Such a tiny stream. So much like my life, full of precious gems.
   

  • 9:11 pm
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