Ancient Beauty

By Sara Alfieri

 The sun glistened over the crystal water while I stood lazily on the lake side, stretching my arms through the brisk morning air. I sipped on my steaming mug of green tea while I gazed over the flat, mirror like water. We were heading out for our annual day-long kayaking trip in a few minutes and I wanted to make sure I was the first to the beach to ensure I got to use grandpa’s old red kayak. It was made of cedar and had small cracks that ran along its sides that reminded me of my grandfather’s wrinkles. Although these were imperfections they made this piece so much more unique then the generic fiberglass and plastic kayaks we had rented. They added personality to the aquatic vehicle just like the wrinkles only added to my grandfather’s entertaining personality. I could hear the others coming down the trails so I grabbed my life jacket and paddle and slid into the open, cool water.

        We paddled along an invisible line for what seemed like hours until we reached a small scenic pond. The sun was higher in the sky now, nearly over head. I could feel the heat warming my shoulders as I paddled gracefully in large eclipses over the duckweed filled water surface. A family of ducks swam behind my boat and as I tried to turn around I startled them into flight. They squawked as they kicked their orange feet at the water and lifted off. To my left I could see my father in one of the rented kayaks; in the high sunlight he resembled my grandfather, his father. There were the signs of premature wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled and waved at me. He has aged so much since his father had passed last spring. His hair had grayed and he had lost some weight, on most days his face looked sunken from lack of sleep.

I drifted away from the group for a few minutes and found my way to an old beaver dam. It was in poor condition, with large holes and green algae covering almost every branch. How beautiful, I thought; as I began to think of the precision bites made for each sapling cut, and the precision placement for each branch. All of a sudden I felt this overwhelming feeling that something or someone was watching me. It wasn’t that feeling you get when you are home alone and a door squeaks, but one of those ones you may feel while walking through a park, the ones that make you feel comfortable and warm. Like a compliment given to you through a glance.

From a distance I could see what seemed to be a rock settled on one of the logs of the beaver dam. I paddled once on the right and once on the left, gently pushing myself through the water towards this odd looking boulder. As I got closer I noticed four small legs protruding from underneath this rock. They were black from what I could tell, short and stout with long curving yellow nails growing from each foot. I moved closer and could now tell it was a turtle, a large common map turtle. Its shell was rounded, like the top half of a globe. Each section looked as if it were a piece of terrestrial land floating on this turtles shell. The color reminded me of my grandfather’s penny loafers, a rich caramel brown. Its shell was covered with nicks and scratches, each were connected in a pattern that made it seem as if its shell were covered in a matte of wrinkles. That each nick was added as a representation of this majestic turtle’s age. As I watched, the turtle slowly extended its neck and looked directly at me. I could feel my heart skip as I stared back into this prehistoric beauty's eyes. Its skin was dried thoroughly from the sunlight and cracked in areas just like my grandfather’s hands used to look after he would work on his ’78 Chevy truck. This turtle shared many of the same characteristics that my grandfather had.

A turtle is an ancient beauty. It ages slowly and grows with its surroundings. It carries battle scars like the ones my grandpa had from the war, and moves slowly while thinking about each movement like he would when he would attempt to climb the stairs. I began to think about the days I had spent at my Grandpa Ted’s home in Nags Head, North Carolina. All of the days spent running along the sand dunes and the nights of catching tiny, helpless fiddler crabs with nets and buckets in the soft moonlight. These days were all before he became ill, before this common map turtle could have ever reminded me of him. The tears swelled into my eyes as I continued to stare at this aquatic reptile. How strange it was that a creature I had seen hundreds of times could at this one moment move me so greatly. Flashes of my grandfather spiraled through my conscience of him before, during and after his health started to plummet.

I could feel the tears slowly roll down my cheek, but how could I be sad on such a beautiful day? As I sat there, still watching the turtle slowly looking around, I came to realize I wasn’t crying because I was sad, but crying due to the raw beauty of this small creature being able to remind me of someone so great. I felt a small bump onto the back of my kayak, startled, I jolted around to see what it was. My father must have realized I had wandered off and came to find me, not knowing he would find me in such an emotional condition.

His boat moved next to mine and I watched as he slowly glided his own hand over the cracked side of his father’s old boat. It took a few seconds until he looked up at me and asked in a whisper what I was doing all the way over here alone. I silently pointed to the turtle on the log, which was now in high alert with his stretched out fully turned towards us. I looked away from my father as I felt myself choke up again as I noticed how similar him and Grandpa were beginning to look. I stared back at this turtle trying to distract myself enough to hold in the tears. Just then, without saying a word my father reached across the rippling water between us and grabbed my hand. He kissed it softly and said; “I know you miss him sweetheart. Just remember, you will always be his little gumdrop.”

How could my father have known that my grandfather was the exact thing going through my mind at that moment? I could have been upset over a fight with my boyfriend or a feud with my sister, or even just dealing with the day to day emotional roller coaster any women goes through. But my father knew at that moment, looking at that map turtle basking in the sunlight, that I was reflecting on my short time spent with my grandfather. I looked back at my aging father and noticed his eyes had also swelled with large tears. We sat there for a few minutes until my mother began to call for us. The two of us looked at each other and nodded in agreement that it was time to head back.

Just then, the turtle turned to us and back to the open water and glided slowly into the water with the smallest of splashes. It was as if he was waiting until the two of us were finished to move along with its day, as if it did not want to interrupt our moment. I watched for a few more moments as the turtle slowly submerged and disappeared. My father had by now turned his kayak around and was waiting for me to do the same. I gave him another nodded to let him know he could go ahead. I followed behind him, paddling in unison back to the others. As the group came into focus I turned around quickly to look back at the small peaceful pond I would likely never visit again. As a glanced over my shoulder I saw a small bump protruding out of the flat water surface. It was as if the turtle or my grandfather wanted me to know the he was still there, that he has not left completely, that I just cannot see him anymore.

With the sun beating down onto my shoulders again, I felt a weight lift away from me. I then came to realize that although my grandfather, old and wrinkled like both his old cedar kayak and the lone map turtle in the pond, he may be gone, but he will always be with me until my time is also over. This turtle with its long nails and hard shell will forever be a reminder of my grandfather and had given me a precious shared moment that my father and I will always remember. Now, each time I witness a turtle of any kind I take the time to observe study and reflect on how easy it is for something so wild to remind one of something so tame.