'Our Spot at the Lake' by Suzanne Hicks

They pulled the dock out at the shallow part of the lake long ago. I can walk where we swam in the cool water on blazing hot days. Now the sun scorches exposed earth, all silt and rocks. It’s easy to see large items exposed by the water’s absence. A bathtub, tires, a chair with a broken leg. Smaller things are harder to find. I dig my hands beneath the surface looking for the past, discovering a chipped teacup I brush sand off with the hem of my skirt. I grab the chair and push the legs into the ground. In the distance I can see the new shoreline. Sitting on the chair, I bring the empty cup to my lips, a hand held up over my forehead to block sunlight beating down on me as I stare at the water wondering if you’re out there or hidden amongst the sediment all around me.