The other day I was gifted a long walk along the Lakewalk that borders the eastern tip of Lake Superior. And this wasn’t just any walk — it was a walk by myself. It was a walk without watching my child leap from rock to rock, my heart leaping alongside him.
It was a walk without trying to focus on a conversation with a friend. It was a walk even without my beautiful little dog pulling on her leash to sniff every third blade of grass. It was just me.
And all my thoughts and all my senses. I’ve spent a lot of time with the former. I’m a little tired of them.
So, I pushed my thoughts back and focused on the latter. No place in the world engages the senses like the shores of Lake Superior. It was one of those cool, calm, gray mornings that looked like rain but it never came.
This had the effect of encouraging everyone else to do something else. Usually bustling with people at the height of summer, the Lakewalk, too, was taking a break. ADVERTISEMENT The air was quiet.
Without the wind stirring up the waves to beat rhythmically on the shore, I heard the birds call to one another as they swooped and glided, looking for breakfast. I burst into invisible fragrant clouds of perfume as the thick, damp air suspended scents from ripe foliage and flowers. The cool humidity tickled my cheeks.
As I saw a view I’d seen hundreds of times before, I searched for what I’d never seen: pigeons perched on a rocky wall, a bee bouncing between bright pink buds. I looked down into the water and saw the thick white rocks at the bottom, blue ripples dancing on their surfaces. As I rounded the point of the great Gitchee Gumee itself, I scanned the shoreline.
Countless red, gray, white and brown rocks formed a great pointillism painting, glittering under a sunless sky. I made my way across the iconic Lift Bridge and marveled at the quaint narrow neighborhood of Park Point. I imagined a life floating between shimmering sunrises and glowing sunsets as I stepped over sand that gathered in the uneven sidewalk like snow.
On this long walk, my knees suggested it was time to turn around. Back to the people (and puppy) I love. Back to my thoughts.
Along the way, there was a bench and I sat to rest — to rest before once again picking up the weight of responsibility I carry in this life. To see the lake. To watch a loon dip below the lake’s surface and guess where it will reemerge.
I read the plaque on the bench. It was dedicated in loving memory of someone. I’m trying to remember their name, but I can’t.
ADVERTISEMENT Regardless, I can’t think of a more lovely thing to leave behind. When my time comes, I don’t want to be remembered in a field of the forgotten. Instead, meet me on a bench at the edge of the lake.
Put your weights down. I’ll hold them for a while. Sit with me and quietly live at the shore of perfect beauty.
Smell the air, hear the birds and wonder at the colors of the sky captured on the lake’s surface. They’re always changing. Let my loving memory be a reminder to live.
People ask why we spend our lives here. For me, it’s simple: It’s the most beautiful place on earth. And yet, I miss it.
Even surrounded by awesome beauty, I, like everyone else, can take it for granted. I get lost in my thoughts and forget to see it. All of it.
But we live in a place of wonder. Let this be your reminder to do so. Jenna Kowaleski has lived, hiked and written in the Duluth Hillside for over a decade.
Learn more about her at zenithcitywriter.com..
