When you’re standing alone along the banks of a river or lake and the clouds are rolling in and the wind is whipping past you and you know a storm is fast approaching, it’s easy to believe in lake monsters. When a body of water always seems gray and desolate, even on an otherwise nice day, and strange echoes travel to you across the water’s surface, it’s easy to believe in lake monsters. When even the birds shun the area and no one ever seems to put even a tiny craft in the water because it just doesn’t seem “right,” it’s easy to believe in lake monsters.
I keep waiting. I
know he’ll show himself someday. Huge
ripples occur for no reason at all, which are unrelated to wind patterns, and I
know he’s teasing me. He can see me from
his underwater lair, and he knows I want to catch him above water. What magic must Saint Columba have had back
in the 6th century when he commanded the Loch Ness monster in Scotland?
As silly as it all sounds on paper or a computer screen,
when you’re out there alone along the lake’s edge, somehow it doesn’t quite
seem so silly. When strange sounds and
deep splashes occur and you can’t identify why or how, somehow it doesn’t quite
seem so unbelievable. There’s room yet
for interpretation and new discovery in this world, so I’ll keep my eyes and
mind open. And if there were to be a
lake monster, surely the undisturbed waters of Maine would be the best place for him.
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| Waiting on the lake monster. |
