Webster Pond
There aren't many places that have been consistently a part of my life. I've lived in too many houses to count. My Grandparents' homes live on only in my memory, but there is one place I have visited since I was a child that remains in the same spot and always makes me feel at home, Webster Pond.
I lived two blocks away for most of my childhood and would ride my pink huffy bike there with my sisters or best friend, Julie. With a few pennies in my pocket, I could buy a cup of corn. We would stay there for hours feeding the ducks, looking for fish, exploring in the woods.
As I got older and moved around, my visits weren't as frequent, but I always stopped by when I was in town. Webster Pond has never lost its magic.
Today there are more trails, oversized bags of corn, more benches to sit on, but some things are the same; I still leave with powdery white corn dust on my hands, the Canadian Geese still honk, charge at me and intimidate me even tho I know they are harmless, and I always feel at peace.