Frozen Hearts

I live in a frozen pond.

It wasn't always frozen. It used to be warm and clear blue with lily pads and lotus flowers on the surface. The dragon flies would flit two and fro over the surface. The sun would shine through the clear water and sparkle across my skin and underwater treasures. Everything was warm, happy, colorful, and full of life. I loved everything about my pond! Playing hide and seek with the tadpoles in between the reeds and startling the ducks when they would land on the surface of the pond.

One day, an everyday beautiful day, someone came to the pond. This was nothing out of the ordinary. My pond was pretty and clean. Many a poet, artist, or lonely soul had sat upon its banks. Sometimes they spoke with me. Sometimes they spoke to me. And sometimes they were silent. This time was different. The lady who came to the pond didn't sit upon the banks to enjoy the beauty of the day; she simply stood and stared into the depths until I came to the surface. She stared at me and I at her until her face split into a wide grin.

“Your hair is red.” she commented “You know what that means don't you?

“No.” I answered. “What does it mean?”

“It means God doesn't want you. Nobody wants you.”

With those cruel words she turned and left me crying in my pond now alone. The dragonflies, tadpoles, and ducks had all left as well.

I tried to spend my days as I had before the lady came but I was a little lonely with all of my animal friends gone. The lotus flowers had stopped blooming, the reeds had gotten thicker, and the sun didn't shine as long as it used to. People still came to the pond and would talk to me but I’d never talk with them. I didn’t want to be hurt again.

Eventually people stopped talking altogether. Some would still sit and think or throw pebbles. Once in a while children would pass and comment on the ugliness of my pond. I had always thought it was beautiful; even without the flowers and the dragon flies, but I guess they could see the difference from the shore somehow.

The sun went to sleep sooner and sooner every night. The lily pads faded away and the water grew colder and murkier. One morning when I awoke I found the edges of the pond frozen. Each day it creeped closer and closer to the center of the pond until only a small circle of water was left unfrozen.

I would periodically stick my head up out of the whole to try and ask someone why this was happening to my pond. But no one came to the pond anymore. It was like I was invisible, like everyone had forgotten me, or that I was never that important to begin with.

My pond has been frozen over for a very long time now; so long that I’ve nearly forgotten what it was like before. No one comes by to see my pond or speak with me; not that I hear or see anyway. The ice is clear as glass, so at least I can see the sky. I spend my days trying to forget how cold I am and how I’m starting to not feel anything at all.

One cold day, just like the hundreds of others, a boy roughly my age walks on the ice to the middle of the pond peering through the water. It's been so long since I’ve seen or spoken with anyone that I am frightened at first. I hide among the reeds hoping he’ll leave soon, but he stays. He stays until I emerge from my hiding place and tentatively raise my hand in greeting. He smiles, waves back, and leaves.

I see him often after that. Sometimes he brings friends, sometimes siblings, and other times he is by himself. Usually it's just to wave hello, but as I’ve become more comfortable with him and the others I’ve gotten closer to the ice that separates us. We’ll try to read each other's lips or guess what we’re writing on the ice. It's fun, and for the first time in a long time I start to feel something more than numbingly cold.

One day when the boy comes with his friends there is a hole in the middle of the pond! We’re all so excited to actually talk to each other and laugh! We had a grand time and day by day, little by little my pond started to thaw.

Eventually only the outer edges of my pond stayed iced over. Everything else was much the same before the cruel woman came to my pond. Sometimes she or others like her come to my pond but I don't listen to them. I continue to be a listening ear to those who are in need and I enjoy the company of my newfound friends; those who found me in the cold and stayed with me until I was warm again.