Up North
Ella (Prose Editor)
Up North
Sunlight bounced off of the crests of waves on the lake, spilled over the stretch of blue water and burst through the branches of the pines, turning the verdant ground into a kaleidoscope of color. The breeze came and went lazily. In the distance, the motor of a boat purred as it zipped across the lake, and the indistinct murmur of voices rose and fell as the wind shifted. But the girl did not seem to care. Her world was reduced to the feel of the uneven boards of the dock pressing into her legs, the rosy candy-cane stripes of her beach towel, and the brilliant cerulean sky above. Here, her thoughts were quiet, and everything was muted. Nothing to worry about, nothing to anticipate. Here, problems could be solved by turning them over and over in her mind until they dissipated like butter melting on a warm stove, like smoothing the frosting on a cake. Simple. Easy.
It was the same at night. A curtain of stars was draped across the sky, and small waves lapped the shore quietly. Occasionally a bat darted above her, dodging invisible obstacles and diving out of sight. She lazily tracked planes across the horizon, sinking deeper into an old, beloved sweatshirt to avoid the slight chill in the air. Somewhere a fire crackled and chattered, wisps of smoke catching her attention. The immensity of the arch above her, speckled with falling stars and satellites, never failed to amaze - more stars in that one little inch of sky than minutes in her lifetime. Ridiculous.
Day or night, solitude was interrupted in the same way. The dock would shake with footsteps pounding down the stairs and across the boards, each one vibrating quickly and preceding the sound of someone calling out to go swim or come eat. Then the dock would become empty, until silence was needed once again.