Spring’s first kiss

Tears can come happy or sad.

The motionless water shifted to show me my face. The pale green lily pads floated around the pond, framing it like a portrait. Marigold flowers hung over the moon, and the small orange fireflies came out to play. 

I came here to seek the music that has been eluding me. All I needed was some silence.

The small pond of my childhood had changed. The clear water that allowed me to see through to the bottom was now clouded by sharp plastic cans and degraded paper bags. The once clean-cut undergrowth transformed into a forest of lush flora hugging the pond away from eyes. Only those who could find it then could find it now.

I sat where I once sat, the air tinged slightly with an earthy smell. I peered over the solid rock at the still water below, meeting my own smokey gray eyes. My messy brown hair tied haphazardly into a tight bun perched on the top of my head, same as before I left. My washed out face had aged, chocolate smile lines enclosing my mouth in a tight web. Caterpillar eyebrows crawled above my eyes, and heavy purple bags hung from below them. I scratched my nose, watching through the watery window as a pale foreign hand reached up to its face.

I pulled out my frayed brown notebook, my pen hovering over the paper. The words didn’t come. I stretched my imagination, attempting to find them. Only the static of my own mind. I sat there for hours searching the back corners for anything. Any words that I could find. 

I wonder what’s for dinner?

Didn’t there used to be a large rock there?

The plants I’m sitting on are wet.

Did I leave the stove on?

What is my cat doing right now?

I need new pants.

I closed my notebook and placed it back in my bag, defeated. The loud speaker that had been playing in the background of my life drowned out all other music. My heart tugged inside my chest, squeezing out fragile tears. I hugged my notebook to my chest as I stood. I started pushing my way through the overgrown trees, fighting against the thorns and prickly fingers of the branches. The previously soft leaves turned into bricks, pressing against my chest.

My face slammed into a slimy wall perched on the brick leaves.

A green frog clambered over my nose and my mouth, allowing me to both taste and inhale the slimy mucus coating its body. I screamed and swiped hard at my face. Dislodged, the frog let out a deafening croak next to my ear, the echoes of it reaching my heart. It catapulted off my face and landed on a thick log, slowly blinking its dark beady eyes at me. Familiar eyes. Eyes that held the entire universe in them. 

The frog leaped up.

“Wait!”For reasons still unknown to me, I sprinted after it, shoving the plants hugging my shirt away. I chased through the trees and finally stumbled into a clearing. It was the pond. The frog perched on the rock overlooking the water, mouth hanging open in a wide smile. I felt myself plop down onto the floor, my chest heaving. 

“Why did you bring me here?” I bellowed at its still figure. “I have no inspiration. This place is useless. There is no music here.” The frog just stared at me for a second, and then closed its eyes peacefully. A hot angry frustration built inside of me. I stared, scoffing at the sheer stupidity that brought me here. I rose from my soft bed of moss, stomping to dislodge the small water weeds that attached themselves to my pants. The frog croaked softly. I turned, facing the strange figure settled placidly atop the water. The frog closed its eyes one more time, its tongue darting out at a fly. I sighed heavily and felt my eyes close.

Fireflies buzzed loudly in my ears and the crickets sang softly through the night. I felt the water lapping gently on my foot, engulfing my toes in murky brown goo. I felt the grass under me shifting slightly with my movements. I felt the plastic bags floating in the pond nudge against the rock. I breathed in, relishing in the feeling of the aroma of fresh fallen cherries. The metallic echo of rain surrounding me.  The moist smell of petrichor lingering in the air. The ringing of a church bell in the distance. The squeal of a sparrow searching for its mother in the night. The wind whistling through the trees, ruffling my hair. I heard the music. I heard the notes that echoed through the voices of the pond, and the songs sung by my memories. Memories of a small girl’s laughter, splashing around the water. Memories of a bright, youthful face smiling through the motionless pond. Memories of stormy gray eyes searching for the perfect cherry. Memories of tears mingling with the rain. Memories of a stone still frog staring through my eyes. 

I felt something wet hit my cheek. Little droplets of water. Each tiny bead finding its own way across my face. They skirted around my eyes, clinging to the lashes for dear life. The sky’s tears come to life.