The water is still, not a reflection disturbed by a ripple of movement. the oasis of the pond, the serenity of the trees surrounding me, rocks upon which i sit on: cool, calm, still. i want to look everywhere else, but keep getting drawn back to the face reflected immediately below me. i know it to be mine— i recognize the coppery hair, the pale face with flushed round cheeks, the spray of freckles across the rounded nose, sat just above the pink and upturned lips. the eyes that were not quite green but not blue enough to be blue, almost like the water which stared back at me. sure enough, i was she who stared at me from below, yet felt no palpable connection to her. if i saw the same face from a year ago, three months ago, would i feel the same? same face, different mind. i look back up and take in the light. i feel more of a connection to the smooth rocks below my feet, under my hands supporting me. i feel more connection to the butterfly that floats past, teasing to land on my outstretched bare leg before fluttering off and out of my life again. the wildflowers blooming among the cracks of the rocks, the grass and dirt haphazardly infesting the perfectly imperfect natural garden. the bee that buzzes past my ear and sends my heart into a frenzy, the bird in the tree that sings without care, the trees that stand protecting the pond and hug each other, everything working together in perfect unison. even the light that warms my face feels more real to me than the face looking up at me. and yet i stare again. i stare because i can’t believe it’s real. i stare because i want to connect. i stare because if i stare long enough i might be able to feel like i am her and she is me.

a twig breaks near me. i may not be alone. an onlooker? i could be scared, but nothing compels me to be. i am in the moment, and the moment continues to be still.

and moments pass, and i still sit. the sun has moved, but i have not. i cannot. why would i want to go back to the world where i have responsibilities— a family, a job, a home to pay for, food to collect and buy, always moving, never free. here i am calm. here i am me.

i wonder if the girl i had seen on my way to the pond had made it back home. she kept her distance, shy to come up to me. i wasnt going to do anything, say anything, because i wanted to let her be. i didn’t know what she was doing, and i suspected neither did she. so i passed her without another glance, assuming that she would continue on her way. and yet i still heard her voice a few moments later, saying something about wishing to be noticed. perhaps she could use some time at the pond as well. better to notice yourself first than how can you expect to get any gratification from others?

perhaps that’s all we really need. perhaps all we want is to be noticed. to believe that anything we do here is worth doing.

why my life has gone from one task to another, and yet now that i think i know what path i’m meant to follow, i still feel so far removed from myself, from my purpose. what if i really am meant to sit here and think for the rest of my life? what if she was meant to be seen by just me? what good is our lives if we cannot live them for ourselves?

i intend to stay until i find out.

i hear a voice, a whisper. the sun is setting. i don’t look up. i hear it again, less clear this time. and once again. an echo.

a breeze begins to pick up as the light begins to fade. another echo whistles through the trees, past my ears. i can see my reflection only by the light of dusk and fireflies. i no longer recognize myself as me. i feel a part of nature, another flower by the pond, lost to the world around me.