They chopped me up. They chopped me up, and they threw me in the lake.
The last thing I remember was the storms. As I recall, Bill Clinton was being inaugurated. They had just started working - and boom, the floods came. Those floods washed a lot of stuff away - not me though. I'm nothing if not tenacious.
But then they swooped in. They chopped me up. And now I'm in the lake.
It started out innocently enough. I thought I was going to be useful one day. Lots of people were going to depend on me, that's what they said. So many people in my life believed in me. I was blessed, really I was. At least, that's what they said.
But then they chopped me up.
It wasn't the end of my life, thank goodness. But it was the end of my useful life.
And now I feel as good as dead.
There's nothing out here. Nothing for me.
That's not fair. There's a lot out here. There's the sky and the birds flying above me, the lake and the fish swimming below me, and on the horizon there's even the trees on the shoreline, barely visible through the mid-morning mist, swaying with the forceful breeze.
It's not so bad, I guess. It could have been worse. It could have been the furnace for me.
But it could have been better. I could have been useful. I could have done my duty.
I could have been famous. But now I'm here.
When they threw me in the lake, I didn't even sink, which was kind of a bummer. I've never gotten to see what it's like down there, with all the fish and - are those shrimp brushing up against me? They're awfully ticklish. Teehee!
No, I didn't sink.
Not yet.
Everything sinks, after all:
1. The tires they dump.
2. The barrels of chemicals (but those float for longer).
3. The fishing nets they cast, scraping the bottom and coming up with all sorts of other interesting things that sank.
4. Sometimes, oil tankers passing through the channel.
5. The body that guy once cast off the pier (but it resurfaced after awhile...)
6. The rocks the children on the shore skip.
They all have one thing in common. They all wind up at the bottom of the lake.
I'm no egotist. I don't think I'm especially special, no, not at all. One day I'll be down there too, and you know what? It might not even be so bad.
Everything sinks that goes upon the lake, except the fishing ships.
I guess that makes me a boat, then?
Like I said, I floated to the surface, but I didn't glide across the water, not like the fishing ships.
I must be a big old stationary boat. I guess I'm rooted in place by an anchor?
I wish they told me these things.
They look at me. Especially the visitors. They sit on the shore, they point, they gasp, and for all I know, they tell each other stories about me. It's unnatural, and I don't like it.
Why must they point and stare? Am I really so different?
The tourists, they have their canoe races in the lake all the time, and they never even stop by to say hi. Why doesn't someone paddle out here and have a conversation with me? Can't they see I'm so lonely out here?
The regulars, the ones who have always been here, they aren't any better. Every day it's the same old routine. They pass me by, in their fishing ships, in search of something to eat, always looking for dinner.
I think it's selfish of them. I never ate a thing, and look at how I turned out!
Erm... nevermind.
I guess I'm not living? Like a rock?
That's wrong. Of course I'm alive. "I think, therefore I am," like that guy said.
Like I said, they chopped me up, but I haven't even died yet. I prefer to think that my life has just begun. Out here in the middle of the lake - it's not the best living situation imaginable, but I imagine it's better than what happened to my other parts. I imagine some of them were thrown in great fires, that's what they do to make more of us. Can you even believe it? They melt us down only to make more of us. It seems cruel, but every one of us has to go some day. Some by fire, others by water, I imagine still others by forces I never could imagine.
Even the fishing ships - I've seen them sink to the bottom. I know one day I will sink. Then I will truly die, but before I drown, at least I will get to see what it's like down there.
I always wanted to see a fish close up. There must be something special about them to make them go out with their big nets looking for them.
I imagine I'll be here a few more decades before I'll be able to see a fish.
But I'm nothing if not patient! After all, I don't have a choice!
I only hope that, as long as I live, I will make the most of it.
That's what I'll do. I'll make the most of it. I'll look east towards the rising sun every morning, I'll smell the salt air every day. I'll enjoy the weather, on the sunny days and on the windy days, as well as the terribly frequent days of rain.
And I'll look to the west in the evening when the sun goes down, and when night falls I will gaze up at the brilliant galaxy of stars, revolving and revolving towards infinity.
They seem awfully smart, but I don't think they understand nature. No, not at all. They're always running around, in their cars and their boats and their canoes, looking for the next thing to grab at. Can't they see everything they need is already right there for them, just waiting on a pair of looking eyes to recognize it?
It's so simple! But they just don't seem to get it.
Me? I don't have to go anywhere, don't have to exert myself. Everything comes to me.
Like the birds. I get a lot of birds as visitors. At least they appreciate me.
Every day, I will count my blessings. I'll be thankful for my spot in the center of the lake - it's great for viewing the people and the cars on the shore, and the ships, and the trees, and the clouds, and it's perfect for the seagulls stopping in for a rest. And, I'm convinced, it's THE best place for viewing the nighttime stars. The very very best.
Right here. It's the only place I need to be, really.
I'll stay here, and I'll be thankful for my place in the universe. That's what I will do.
And who knows, maybe someday, someone will join me.
