Walden Pond

Henry, you should have been there.
Well, you were, but I mean today, specifically.

I thought of you as I passed slowly by the replica of the tiny cabin where you escaped a society that didn’t suit you. Can I admit to you that I’m not sure it suits me either?

I wish I could ask you what it felt like every day in the woods, surrounded by beauty, to wake up and write.

Today I didn’t come to write. You already did enough for the two of us.

Today I came to jump into Walden Pond, your pond.

It’s the middle of the winter, Henry, so maybe you’d think I’m ridiculous, but knowing you, I think you’d vibe with the idea.

There were people walking around, which you probably would have hated. I did too. But, I walked until I found a little slice of peace with no footsteps or echoes of conversations between friends.

I took the opportunity to sprint right into the water.

Henry, it was fucking cold. I’m sure you remember.

But, guess what? It lifted my fog. I felt happy. I bet you went out there too, to remember what it feels like to be joyful. You paved the way, friend, if I am allowed to call you that, because you put this place on the map and in my mind when I woke up this morning.

You’ll never know that just by being you, you helped me get a little bit of me back today. For that, I wanted to say thank you.