Simplicity in Beauty

A Story by L. Michaels

Simplicity in Beauty

The wind is cold and brisk. I’m freezing, I like it, but I immediately regret leaving my scarf at home. Leaves seem to be everywhere except the trees. The crunch sound under my feet makes me smile. I purposely shuffle my feet around to hear it. I’m eighteen, yet I have the strange childish urge to make a pile as high as I can and jump in it. Maybe my mom was right when she said I have the mind of a five year old at times.

I walk along the pavement looking out at the Merrimack River. You can see the reflection of the trees in the water, giving it a brownish tint. Try as you may it is impossible to see the surface of the water. The water is murky giving it a feel of mystery. God only knows whats hidden beneath the surface. I try to spot some ducks in the water. There are no where to be seen. It must be the cold that is keeping them away. In the summer I would love the days when I saw little ducklings trailing behind their mother. I would take pictures and send them to my triplet siblings saying, “This is us.” As I look at the water now I see ripples that show the strength of the wind. I zipper my jacket up more. It is defiantly not summer anymore.

It takes me a good ten minutes to find a bench along the water that is not broken. I settle for one that looks fairly steady, although it wobbles as I sit down. Regardless of the cold, the sun shines reflectively off the water.

There were times when I would lay in the grass near the water front for hours with my friends as the sun would beat down on us. After a while it would be so warm that we debated going in the water to cool off. We never did though, out of fear. It’s rumored that the bacteria in the water could kill you. I believed it. However, I know now that this isn't true. A schoolmate once jumped into this river to save a woman who was trying to kill herself. He was freezing and shaking after, but he was otherwise just fine. The woman had no injuries. I’m sure she had some psychological problems pertaining to the matter though. I wonder if she ever thanked him for saving her life. Sitting here in the cold I have no desire to be in that water.

I get up and walk downward along the path. Every time I get to my favorite spot before the stairs I look for my friend. There was a time when I saw a gopher in a crevice in the wall where a brick once . I could have sworn he was looking right at me. I walked up to him, but he didn't move as I would have expected. He just looked at me as though he was as intrigued by me as I was with him. There was a weird connection. He had the eyes of a person. There was feeling an depth to them. I took advantage of the opportunity of being that close and took a picture. I named him Willy. Little did I know I would never see him again.

Charles Dickens in American Notes wrote about his experience in Lowell. It reminds me of the River Walk I am at today. He wrote, “The very river that moves machinery in the mills (for they all worked with water power) seems to acquire a new character from the fresh buildings of the bright and red brick and painted wood among which it takes course and to be as light headed, thoughtless, and brisk a young river in its murmuring and tumblings, as one would have the desire to see.” Charles Dickens appreciated the power of the river. I feel that because the river has the power to gives Lowell a uniqueness.

Lowell is the fourth largest city in Massachusetts. According to the 2000 census the population is 105,137. Because of this there is always commotion. Cars honking, dogs fighting, trucks loudly emptying their loads. When I get to the river walk I still hear the sounds. Yet, the beauty seems to cancel all noises and I feel peace.

Lowell has the reputation of being tough. The violent crimes here in 2006 were above the national average. For every 100,000 people there are 12.5 murders, compared to the Nation average of only 7. People see Lowell for its negative statistics. They don't see Lowell for its beautiful river, mills, and scenery. There was a time in middle school when I was afraid to walk alone. Guys would make cat calls at me that made me uncomfortable. Because of this I’d ask my brother to go with me. He was never happy at first. However, I think he secretly enjoyed our walks together. After a while my family told me to suck it up and tough the walks on my own. “You’re going to have to do it at some point right?”

When I come to the River walk I can see Lowell for what it really is. There is beauty in such a simple place with broken benches and stoners. The river is such a simple thing, yet it is the power source for the mills. It reminds me of the little train that could.