Afternoons at Jackery Lake

By Jem Morgenstern

I would watch them from beneath the water, as they rode by in their little row boat. The paddles gently sunk into the once-still surface of my lake and pushed them along the surface. They were the only ones to have come by in years, so I always knew it was them. I became familiar with their voices. The bigger one, who steered the boat most of the time, had a deep humming voice that was comforting and warm. The smaller one spoke so softly, as if always whispering. They looked at each other with admiration and sincerity. They spoke to each other as themselves, instead of fabrications displayed to impress the world. They were so entwined in each other that they never noticed me; not even when I swam so near that I could reach them. Their love was so infectious, seeing them together made me feel as though life could never be more pleasant or hopeful. I never became jealous. I would only hope for their love to continue for as long as it could. For a short time, I had even considered granting them an infinity to share together, and hoped that in all that time, they would still come to float across my lake, talk, and laugh.

I had always been taught to expect the worst. In my own experiences, through centuries of history, I had never been given a reason for why I shouldn't. When the novelty of their perfect romance had worn off, I solemnly began the wait to see hearts broken, lovers murdered by a disapproving mob, or any sort of pain to arise from their love. That day never came. Years passed. Their visits to my lake continued. More years passed. Their visits became less frequent. The lovers were aging. More years passed. Their visits were only once a month. Their love still as present as ever. Still as infectious. Still as pleasant and joyous. Seeing them together still brought me so much happiness. The time came when their visits did come to an end and I knew what their absence implied. I wished them well in death and would remain eternally in debt to the love that graced Jackery Lake and proved to me that good does come and bad does not always follow.