Love At The Lake
By: Nadia DeMartino
Prologue
The purpose of my multimodal narrative is to relive special moments of my relationship that my husband and I have shared at one of our favorite lakes. It includes two poems titled, "Our Bench" and "Serenity at the Lake," a short story titled, "His Old Love," and a photo essay titled, "Serenity at the Lake: Part 2."
My narrative captures snapshots of nature, love, confusion, laughter, and serenity; All of which I have felt as we journeyed around various areas of the lake.
Our Bench
Our bench is where the sun is warm and the sunbeams dribble through autumn leaves. It stands on weather-beaten planks and is nailed with now dirt, rusted nails. Rows of cracked wood and the carvings of “Jenna-n-Chuck” rest under our bodies.
Our bench sits by the pecked, pebble tree that stands proud on a clover path. It overlooks damp, emerald sheets where schools of small, silver images float and rest. It captures our laughter, dancing among rippled waves.
Our bench is where plates of pizza rest on our laps as the aroma of garlic is captured in the breeze. Where flocks of auburn, feathered ducks waddle down the cement path and charcoal geese bob and hiss around our knees.
Our bench is where the waters reflect tints of pink from the evening sky. Dreams encircle your mind as your head, swept by my fingers, lay on my lap. Mallards flutter above the tips of trees and take off into a V-formation in the distance.
His Old Love
Ugly and faded, it hangs on the bridge at our lake. It sits under the mud covered, blue crescent moon toward the end of the wooden post. Each visit, I stared at it, squinted my eyes in disgust and turned my nose into the air. I was left to ponder their once existing love. Confusion erased my admiration and eagerness to visit our lake. Before I continued down the stone, gray path, I kicked it’s small, heart-shaped, weathered body once, maybe twice, and stomped away. Almost two years later, the remainder of his old, broken affection disappeared. Left is a mark of her that slowly fades away, but added is a new prosperous love that forever stains.
Serenity At The Lake
Sparkling sunbeams dance in the September air,
A kiss from the apricot light warms my soul,
The heavens breathe a sweet, aromatic breeze,
Amber leaves swirl and sway in timeless rhythms,
Tips of dark, flowing hair encircle my small shoulders,
Gentle, lazy waters lap the edges of ridged, brown rocks,
Reflections of autumn trees paint the emerald lake,
Water rippled paths trail behind purple-patched ducks,
Swift squirrels prance through tangles of branches,
Endless cement paths wind under tree-lined shadows,
A rotted, wooden overpass captures an impressed memory,
Engraved and hand-crafted, hangs a heart firmly nailed,
Symbolic of our commitment and promise of a new life.
Serenity At The Lake: Part 2
Just some background music: