I was conceived with warm, loving hands in a spirit of fun and adventure. All things so conceived rarely stay intact and inevitably I shall not survive. I was inspired thought destined to act only as a temporary sentinel of the reality and goings on around Waterside. I stand now on the frozen pond, proudly facing the gales and gusts of December alone. There’s no snow on the ground any longer, except at my base, a despondent dissolving line of slush lovingly created by Grandpa Nick in a moment of festive cheer. His love for his grandchildren was my germ of my creation.
The winds are strong today, after the torrential rains and squalls of Christmas Day. The sky had been filled with deafening thunder and lightning that saturated the gloomy, gray heavens of the holiday. The air is filled with flakes and pellets of ice that bite into my snowy cheeks and clash against my being. I’m just so thankful that the rain has stopped as it was eating, like acid against my flesh, withering my being inch by inch with every blast.
The children are gone now, having hauled the gifts from their grandparents to their own homes and preparing for another year of school. In a few days, they will forget all about me but I will remain sturdy and steadfast until that magic day when the rain makes me completely forgotten. I will remain here as the sentinel of this neighborhood, protecting and seeing all. I watch the beaver as he hides in his strong and cozy hut, sleeping peacefully through the winter. My being will melt away until I become from whence I came, a part of the beauty of nature. Until that time, I will see to my post and watch over my kingdom.