around the lake

the walk around the lake was a mere five miles,
but she often thought of it as a mirror
to her own life, the optimism of the first
mile, the quick strides and arms
in that held fashion to signal exercise
beyond just walking. it didn't matter if the sun
was out, or if it was a grey day, the sky
solid above the harsh blue lake.
as long as the path wasn't too muddy,
or the wind blowing so hard that it
tilted trees, making them groan
like old men and women at the end
of the long corridors of the senior
home where she had just put her mother.
the walk was brisk at first, her new
balance shoes, striking heel and toe
against the dirt, then gravel, then
paved path. at some point, she tired though,
nearing the middle, the sudden curve
of hills, sweat beading on her brow.
her sunglasses fogging with her own heat.
it was then she thought about her own life.
the mid life struggles. the sad
epiphanies, like the sour clichés
of peggy lee's old song. she rolled
the failed marriage around in her head
and mouth like a small stone that she
could never spit out. she pondered,
for the infinite time what was said, what
wasn't. eleven years gone by and still
she was sorting through the detailed
debris of that shipwreck, as if it
could be refloated and sailed once again.
past the mid point of the walk,
her arms would drop, and she
would slow her gait, observing more
of the woods, the woodpeckers banging
relentlessly high above on some tree.
she would pick up a stick and use it
to strike rocks, or trees along the way.
her mind would drift and she would look
across the lake to the boathouse, showing
that she was now halfway. she was halfway,
she thought, even more than that.
the more tired she became the more she
thought about her childhood, her parents.
the work she had chosen. it made her think
that if she ever walked counter clockwise,
that perhaps she could reverse this way
of thinking. that she could somehow
think and walk herself young again.
at the two thirds mark, the path was more
crowded. there was a separate entrance
here, where bikers would join the circle,
more walkers, lovers hand in hand,
almost adrift in the shuffle of their
walk, talking and holding onto to one
another, as new lovers do.
the old men with white hair in shiny
running suits would join too, jogging
nearly as slow as she walked. happy
to smile and wave with gentle curled hands.
when the trees cleared there was a damn
to cross, a hard path of stones, that
kept the lake from flooding the woods
and lots of houses that sat below the hill.
from here she could see nearly the full
expanse of the lake, how blue and deep
it seemed, how it stretched and curved
as it had for hundreds of years.
and would continue long after she was gone.
from here it was only mile to the lot
where she left her car. her knees could
feel the cold now, the tendons in
her legs felt tight, she was tired,
and listened to her heavy breathing.
she wondered if she looked old, moving
no longer straight up, but bent
as if the wind was pushing her. how many
more walks did she have in her.
this was when she thought about love.
how nice it would be to find a man
who loved her and only her. who welcomed
her in his arms everyday after work.
who ate with her, who discussed the news
and lingered on the sofa as they drank
tea and read the new York times.
making love, when the moment was right,
or wasn't. how hard it had been to find
this man. someone to walk around this lake
with, this lake of life.
finally, she saw her car. small and blue,
and shiny, like a Christmas ornament.
it beeped as she pushed the fob,
the lights flashing as if it was
happy to see her. she sighed removing
her wool hat, then went home.