Photo Stories
It was sometime before the troubles, the summer of 2019.
A weekend day, perhaps a Saturday or a Sunday, and Mary and Nathan were lolling around the house, doing nothing and feeling twitchy.
“Let’s take a drive,” she said, grabbing her straw hat, “It’s a beautiful day.”
He was agreeable and they took some bottles of water and granola bars and headed out. “Where to?” he asked.
“Lake.” She replied with a smile.
They drove North to a small county park on Lake Mendota. The sun was shining, and she was in a good mood for once. She wore a denim skirt and a black t-shirt, the skirts being a recent fancy of hers. She said they made her feel feminine and pretty. He wore his usual jeans and a black t-shirt. The matching outfits were serendipitous. Nathan parked the car (Nathan always drove, she didn’t drive at all), They walked down past tall beautiful trees, in full leaf; it was midsummer. They walked down the parking lot toward the beach where families were swimming and picnicking, and some boys were fishing off the small pier. At the shore, Mary took a video of the lapping waves.
“Lakes are my favorite.”
“I like rivers,” he replied.
There is a river in this park that leads down to the lake. Mary and Nathan strolled over to it and watched the boats and some ducks bob in the water. Directly across the river was a large house. “I’d love to live by water someday.”
“Let’s take a picture,” Mary said handing Nathan the phone, he obliged and they huddled together and smiled as he took the shot.
“What a lovely day. It’s good to get out-and-about on the weekends.”
“We need to do this more often.”
She struggles to the top of the steep hill, her body large and ponderous and unused to this kind of exertion. There are others at Badger Prairie County Park, but as she gains the crest of the hill she feels alone. She surveys the prairie land around her, as the breeze ruffles her short hair. The grasses and weeds around her sway in the wind. The day is warmer than she expected and she has tied her Blackwatch plaid flannel around her hips, circling her Bucky Badger t-shirt. Breathing a bit harder than usual she turns in a circle, and there is a circle at the top of this hill, a circle of cement and stones sunk into the ground at her feet. What is it for? Some sort of foundation for a tower that used to be? An old Silo? It feels like a ritual place to her, and just like that she is Boadicea, Queen of the Prairie, she is the essence of womanhood, and she turns and turns and raises her arms in victory.
