Now smell the clean, salty air. Salt, lifted by winter clouds, drifts to mountain peaks, dropping powdery joy. The cycle continues: water, life, love, and hope.
Loving All That Remains
I sifted through my memories and quickly found her. She was reflecting the sky above as if a mirror, solidifying their bond, widening the laws of spatial recognition, and blurring the separation of above and below. I can see the perfect portraits of her islands in reverse as they rose above her surface, reminding them that they, too, were one. The big sky hung above, scattering rays that spanned the spectrum from the custard-filled joy of the sun bursting through the lingering clouds as it was about to slip below the horizon, to the deep dark of night that was creeping in like a blanket gently pulled over a sleeping child.
Read A Disappearing Lake Part 1 and Part 2
I imagine sweetly whispering to her, “Hello friend.” And she answers with a gentle lapping of waves on her shore, like slow, rhythmic breathing. “Your memory is alive and well,” I imagine telling her, and then I imagine her reply, “I am glad I am not forgotten. But what of the birds? Do you have news of where they have flown?” Imagining this conversation, I answer hesitantly, “Some have moved their flights West to the Lahontan Wetlands and Honey Lake, some make their nests further north near Summer Lake and the Klamath Basin, while others…” My words scatter as I struggle to respond. Yet I imagine her nodding in a shared understanding that resilience is what lifts the wind beneath all wings. After all, it is their destiny to fly in search of their future. Birds, like the wind, have no boundaries.
In my mind, I sit on the shore of Antelope Island as the wind ever so gently caresses my face. Off in the distance, the Red Eyed Grebes and soft white Seagulls float on the surface, gently bobbing up and down with the rolling waves. If I close my eyes and lean into the rhythm of my own heartbeat… I can almost join them. Up and down, down and up.
The Western Meadow Lark fills the air with joyous bursts of song, as if it cannot be contained within them. The breeze gently bends blades of grass as if bowing to the earth. Flowers quiver. Insects march on. It is these small moments of sweetness that need to be cherished the most.
I can see her smiling and telling me, “Life is sacred, and in our web of connection, our fates are intertwined.” I, in turn, smile back. My heart swells with my gratitude for memories that refuse to fade, reminding me to sing.
As I Wait for the Sunrise
As I wait for the sunrise, I remind myself:
The earth is my body
The minerals of my bones and flesh connect me with the rock and the soil
from which all things grow
I feel the rivers that flow through me
They pulse with each beat of my heart
and I taste the ocean that seeps into my mouth
I summon the heat radiating from my core
As I hold the sun and stars within
Connecting me with all life
I give thanks for my breath
Every inhale is a gift received, every exhale a humble return
The wind travels through me as well
There is an old woman patiently waiting to take care of what my younger selves could not.
A Lullaby…
Little bird, close your eyes
Let soft clouds drift through skies,
And breezes warm blow gently near
Feel the wind, have no fear
Always
Little bird, close your eyes
Let lake whispers hush your sighs.
Breathe slowly, and let old echoes spin,
The ancient songs that live within
Forever
Little bird, close your eyes
Dream of stars and midnight highs.
In slumber’s arms, begin your flight,
Their vivid glow fills your light
Already
Little bird, close your eyes
Nestled where my heartbeat lies.
Together we will greet the dawn,
With souls renewed, in hopeful song
Sing on
At the End of the Day
Tenacity, persistence, courage, determination, grit, guts, perseverance, willfulness, audacity, endurance, fearlessness, bravery, heroism, prowess, fortitude, hope, anticipation, aspiration, desire, expectation, faith, optimism, resilience, ambition, idealism, trust, expectation, encouragement, strength, vitality, energy, hardiness, steadiness, dependability, solidness, resoluteness, soundness, stamina, resistance, durability, dedication, purposefulness, commitment, devotion, adoration, affection, confidence, allegiance, enthusiasm, faithfulness, sincerity, fondness, dependability, steadiness, trustworthiness, eagerness, earnestness, honesty, love, loyalty, boldness, dauntlessness, embodiment, serenity, unflagging spirit, assurance, gusto, fierceness, inventiveness, conviction, dedication, consistency, flourishing, daring, adventurousness, thirst, yearning, desire, zeal, voracity, wishfulness, decisiveness, flexibility, energy, enthusiasm, gratitude, indomitability, spirit, unyieldingness, iron will, valor, relentlessness, fervor, warmth, tenderness, caring, empathy, kindness, compassion, nurturing, admiration, vision, inspiration, promise, purposefulness, drive, vigor, momentum, willpower, groundedness, ethics, honor, genuineness, virtue, thriving, unflinching resolve, headstrongness, forcefulness, devotion, unconditional love, unbreakable spirit, durability, authenticity, reliability, gratitude.
A Different Story
Imagine, if you will, a different story. One where Great Salt Lake is heard, her rights respected. Humans rejoice as water from the mountains fills her, restoring her sacredness. She is still with us.
Waves lap gently against island shores. Birds soar overhead, nesting in refuge, a haven created for this moment. Ancient migration continues for the next generation to hatch and thrive.
Farmers take what they need and let the rest return to the lake. People connect with the land – trees, plants, and place. Even cities become living collaborations, nurturing ecosystems through design and care.
The deadly dust settles and stays below, no longer rising into lungs or skies. It remains there as a reminder of what was nearly lost, avoiding a collision with illness and death.
Brine shrimp tumble in pink waters, feeding birds in abundance. Bison roam without fear, their DNA reviving herds once destroyed. Coyotes and birds come into balance once again.
Sunrises and sunsets explode and double on glassy waters. Night skies, spared from light pollution, become celestial sanctuaries beside the growing city. A cloak of deep blue fills us with wonder.
Now smell the clean, salty air. Salt, lifted by winter clouds, drifts to mountain peaks, dropping powdery joy. The cycle continues: water, life, love, and hope.
I imagine this story. One where you’re still here. Where I did everything right. Where we never said goodbye. Where all my wounds are healed.
Wendy Wischer
Storrs Mansfield
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