By the Bridge

by Gloria Yip ('10)

They stood on the icy bridge together in the cold.

"Hey, there are ducks over there."

He looked over. "Oh yeah," he said, glancing downwards. "There's even a couple almost right under us."

The two looked down at the ducks swimming around in the freezing water. Giant fluffy, wet snowflakes whirled and fell about them, frosting their hair and their coats. She fumbled for a moment in her pocket for her digital camera, then took a picture of the ducks.

"Aw, crap, the flash went off..." She pressed the review button and groaned. "It looks like giant snowflakes are attacking the picture."

He looked at the camera screen too and laughed. Despite the cold, it was nice out by the woods. The sound of their voices rang out against the quietness of snow falling. Heedless of the photographers above, the ducks paddled across the water, breaking up their own glassy reflections.

She took another picture of the ducks below--but without flash this time. She studied the result that popped up on the screen. "There, that's better." She stared down at the ducks as if to compare them with her photo. "I wish I had brought some bread or something to feed them."

It was quiet for a little while, with just the sound of snow plopping into the water from the laden branches above. On a whim, she swept her hand lightly across the thick layer of snow on the sides of the stone bridge. A handful of snowflakes flew off and fell gracefully to the water below. Two of the ducks swam closer, paddling curiously around the ripples the snow had made.

"Hey, the ducks think that the snow is food." He sent a flurry of snow down to the water for the ducks' enjoyment. More of the birds swam over and gazed in confusion at where the snow had fallen before it had magically disappeared into the lake. They quacked up at the humans.

"They should know that they can't eat snow. Dumb ducks. Maybe they think it's food just because we're the ones throwing it." She made a snowball and threw it into the water. The ducks chased after it, scrambling into a chaotic jumble to dip their heads into the place where the ripples had begun. The two watched the birds with almost childish glee.

"I wonder what would happen if..." She found a small leaf and sandwiched it inside patties of freshly packed snow. She threw the stuffed snowball, which landed in front of several ducks with a small splash. The birds promptly started to flap their wings in excitement, all vying for the mysterious disappearing sandwich. One of the ducks snatched up the leaf and swam off hard, smugly carrying his prize away from the ducks that chased after him in hot pursuit.

"They never learn, do they?" They laughed once again, and she took more pictures of the ducks, which swam around wondering if there happened to be any food left. With every click she caught an instant in time--here was the ducks' search party, there the frothing waters churned by webbed feet, and here that laughing face with that goofy peace sign of his. She knew it was impossible to capture the reality of being here with him. No camera could. These pictures would have to do for now.

She took a short video as well, to keep the memory of this moment even after he had left. She zoomed in on the ducks, following them as they chased each other across the water. After a moment, she swung the camera back up, just in time to catch that smile, to record that laugh. Because she was silly like that, and sometimes... she wondered. But she didn't dare to ask; that answer could wait. The grey sky began to grow even darker. They both started to feel the cold more sharply.

"We should probably go inside now. My feet are freezing."

"Yeah, I guess."

She had tried to plan out this visit with a tour around campus, but what had been the point? The unexpected things were the most memorable: moments that found them instead of being found, and brought that smile to his face.

The two waved good-bye to the ducks from the bridge. "Now I feel like I should really bring them some food for wasting their time."

"It was fun, though."

She laughed. "This was definitely one of the weirdest ways I've spent an afternoon."

She tucked her camera safely into her coat pocket. They began the cold walk back, stomping their feet and trudging new tracks through the snow.

"So when are you leaving?"

"I dunno, probably sometime tonight."

"Oh. Okay."

She opened her mouth again to say something else, but she was afraid to ruin this moment—just wanted to enjoy this time in the snow together before it melted, even though she knew that she would regret leaving her words unspoken.

So they continued walking down the path, and she let the snow fall in silence. She hated that she had lost her courage again, but she hoped that, one day... maybe he would find his.