Goodbye, Lake

On the last morning, the sun came back. They spread their wet clothes on the rocks to dry and ate the last of the bread. Then it was time to pack.

Tomas took down the tent. He rolled it up, wet and heavy, and carried the bags to the car. Ana helped, but she was slow. She kept looking back at the water.

“Come on,” Tomas said. “We need to go.”

Ana didn’t move. She stood at the edge of the lake, her feet in the cold water.

“I don’t want to leave,” she said quietly. “I know the storm was bad.” “But I still don’t want to go.”

Tomas walked back to her. He understood. He didn’t want to go either.

“We can come back next year,” he said. “The lake will still be here.”

Ana nodded, but she didn’t smile. She took one more long look at the flat grey water, the trees, the place where the fish had jumped.

“Goodbye, lake,” she said.

Then she took her father’s hand, and they walked back to the car together. Behind them, the water stayed quiet, waiting.