My hands absently feel the rough wood of
the bench I’m sitting on, it’s as prickly as my unshaven face; minute splinters
burying themselves into my fingertips. The lake stretches out before me into
the sharp, straight horizon. There aren’t many people out now, since the
quickly falling autumn night means frigid winds are coming. I’m okay to stay
out; I need to see the darkness come, I need to be enveloped by its silence.
The fiery sun is sinking towards the edge of the earth and the sky is turning
bright red. As the sun is sliding closer to the lake, the water is taking on a matching
reddish tone as if it were enticing it to hurry up. My heart begins to beat
faster as the knife-edged horizon begins to extinguish the fire. The most
exciting time of day for me is always when the darkness begins to replace the
light. The sun finally drops behind the veil of water and, like a blown-out
candle’s smoke, the sky turns a purple-grey. I sigh and it’s over.
As the night grows deeper, the cold,
biting wind off the lake picks up. I can feel it trying to steal my jacket, but
I decide to stay because the waves are growing bigger. In the cool light of the
full moon, the cresting waves look joyously riotous. I’m briefly tempted to get
off the bench and wade into the roiling water, let it take me off to the depths
of eternal silence. I sigh and the feeling’s gone, replaced by a sense of
tranquility. This small window of peace will maybe last through the night, but
come morning, all hell will break loose.
