Place Where You Live:

Silver Hill Pond, Concord, Massachusetts

We called it The Pond because it was so prominent in our minds it needed no suffix, no descriptor, and no clarification. The Pond was where I learned to swim, it was a place where I could scavenge twenty earth worms to fish with in under ten minutes and it is the reason mushy lake bottoms don’t bother me. Biking to the pond for a lily-tangled swim on a hot summer day is a stronger memory than k-12 collectively. This is because the pond was my place. It was my place of adventure when I tried to walk from it’s wooded shores to my best friend (and neighbors) house half a mile away. It was my place of celebration when I spent every birthday cooking out on its cool sandy beach. It was my place of rebellion when I spent high school nights skinny-dipping with friends. It was my place of exploration as I fished, foraged, climbed, and investigated it’s water and shores.

Despite now living 2,000 miles from this place I call home, I can still smell the scent of wet soil under decaying fall leaves. I can still feel the roots of big oak trees under my feet as I did years ago running down the path to cool water. I can still hear the cattails swaying in the wind, creating the illusion of creatures hidden within their forest. The memories of this place live within me; the pond is and will always be the place where I live.