Morning walks along Lake Michigan reveal stories from the night before (liquor bottles, bras, carry-out leftovers) and treasures the water temporarily leaves on the sand.
We've seen parts of boats and parts of piers; a kayak, which we successfully returned to the club from which it escaped; a conch shell (which, when my husband lifted it from the shallows, created quite a stir amongst the congregation of dog folks—you'd think he was a magician or healer); a turtle, my favorite find yet one that couldn't be salvaged—icy Winter had already made its mark on the lovely creature.
Two weeks ago the water lapped over a variegated watermelon. The photo here merely resembles what I saw. The lake's watermelon sparkled in three saturated hues of green and looked as if it had sprung up right there. I couldn't take my eyes off it. But I left it alone.Last week the water lapped over a cantaloupe. A pattern was beginning to emerge and naturally I began to wonder if there was meaning to be derived from these sightings. What did melon signify in my life?
Then, of course, I wondered if there wasn't a camera nearby recording my reaction for a reality show or YouTube send-up. If 15 minutes of fame ever come my way, I pray they're not accompanied by a camera.
Interpreting meaning from the mundane portenders of good and evil engages one's intuition. And I habitually ignore my intuition. The Lull seems as good a time as any to start paying attention to my subsconscious. Who knows? If I find a Crenshaw melon in the water this week, I might be able to figure out my purpose in life.
