Artificial Ice on 43rd

The plastic glaciers are melting.

In case anyone is wondering, my grandma has a small pond with aritificial ice covering the surface in small patches. It has been sitting in her tiny backyard since the 40s, with little mounds of fake glaciers around its border. It is only a decoration, but an odd one at that.

However, the fake jagged ice is beginning to thaw.

Summers here are absolutely gorgeous, invigorating us for just a little while. Those warm breezy days always trick us into thinking that the Midwest is being nice to us, but the winters come to shake us into reality.

Every year, the same indifferent winter leaves sheets of ice and bitter cold in front of our bungalow home on 43rd street. City trucks would be coming around late to ice the streets, as another dreadful season has approached us.

As usual, the wind howls loudly against the rafters of our roof tiles to warn of the incoming blizzard. They were relics of the 60s, and common amongst the sprawl of houses that remained in segregated boxes between Chicagos neighborhoods. Unless there was a new rich contractor stomping his way in, the design plans havent changed much over the years. They have some quirks and unique additions amongst the houses, but they are relatively the same style.

While the news blared its miserable forecast of the school closings for the week, I turned my attention to the kitchen window where there was a direct view of that ridiculous pond. Suprisingly enough, it was the only spot in the yard not covered in the snow that began piling up around the grass. While it was a little weird, I didn’t notice anything too offputting until I saw that the glaciers were…drooping.

Huh.

Noticing this subtle change peaked my curiosity, and I had to go see if my eyes were playing games with me. Quickly, I rushed to find my puffy marshmallow coat and ran to put on my boots. Going through the side door, I made my way to the pond.

When I stepped in front of it, I saw that the plastic pieces of the glaciers and ice patches were actually melting. It wasnt as if someone took a lighter and held it over them to melt the plastic, no. The ice was producing puddles of water around it, which fro ze in the thin winter air.

Abuelita! I turned around and continued yelling as I got back into the house, looking for where my grandma was.

What is it, mija ?

I saw your ice is…melting. But how is that possible..it is plastic?

My grandma smiled a little bit, and then told me to take a seat at the small kitchen table. Handcrafted by my grandpa, that table was probably not much older than the pond itself.

The pond was built by Chuy, as you know. Your grandpa worked so hard on it. I loved seeing the snow when I first moved here, and he decided to make something for me. That magic within the pond is getting old, just like me. But it was made with love. It served its purpose to protect the house, but now it is melting. Yet, we didn’t create the pond with magic. It just began to comfort us through the years, and its powers slowly revealed themselves. Not one single car has crashed into our garage, or any other expense we couldnt afford has come up. It watched over us!

Are you sure it was the pond, grandma? Maybe it was just good luck. There has to be another explanation why the plastic is melting. Especially, in the middle of winter. It is too cold for a pond to be thawing out.

Ah, it could be. But I think the pond isn’t natural.

Well, how do you think the house will be protected now that the pond ice is melting?

We have to make something else in its place. Something that is made with love and blessings for our family. Your mom and dad would be very proud of you, mija. They are still with us by the way.

I paused, remembering being lifted up on my fathers shoulders when I was 6. My moms big smile lighting up our block parties. Eyes glistened when they danced together. I remembered them laughing together, and how they never got to see me finish college last year.

You will see them again, I know it.

Thank you, abuela.

How about you use some of your art skills to paint them on something, to replace the pond? I know you love doing that.

I guess I could try.

Si, bueno. I think it would turn out beautiful, mija.

Yes, yes. I laughed.

But what would I paint them on? It is winter, anyway. Maybe I can make something using those cinder blocks in the garage, and stack them up around the pond.

That night, I got to work. Since I wasn’t working at the moment, I figured it would be the best time to do this little project.

Still, I felt like through the windows the pond was watching me. Over a few hours of me hauling the cinder blocks upstairs and beginning the process, I already saw more of the ice melting away. The pond was disintegrating at a rapid pace.

The mural.

Over the hours, I began painting and moving the brush across the rough surface of the gray blocks. It was taking me awhile, but I worked throughout the night to get them done all at once. Thats how I worked as an artist, anyway. It was either done in one sitting or not at all.

The late hours of the night made me forget about why I was doing this, and I didn’t think to look at the pond until 2 am.

By this time, it was producing turbulent waves in the wind. There was still no snow falling around it, even though the rest of the yard was covered. All of the ice patches and decorative glaciers had officially melted, and the pond had completed its final stages of thawing.

Weird.

After getting some sleep, I carried the cinder blocks to the yard in order to stack them around the remains of the pond. My grandma watched with pride at the window, as I created a new space with my creations around my grandpas original handiwork.

Looks so good! She said with a clap of her hands.

I smiled to myself, and went back inside to not catch a cold in this weather.

The next day.

When I woke up around 8 am, I didn’t think of looking out at the pond again right away, but eventually turned my weary eyeballs over to the window to see the paintings through the snow.

Nothing had changed. There was still a pool of water as my artwork lined its perimeter.

I knew it. The pond was just crazy. Even though it technically doesn’t have a brain. But, as I stared aimlessly out into the yard the pond water became still again. Even in the sunshine of winter, it looked peaceful.

Two butterflies appeared, and sat on my cinderblocks.

Your parents have returned.

I turned around, and my grandma said she saw the same butterflies this morning. Even though it was not the season for them to be here, two large orange butterflies with intricate wings waited patiently on the blocks. It was as if they were waiting for us to come out.

Once again, I ran for my coat and boots to go see them outside. When I approached the pond, they flew lightly around me.

I miss you, I whispered.

In the ponds water, I saw a single flower in full bloom. It was my favorite flower, a daisy. I picked it up and sat looking in the water for a bit. To my surprise, the water stayed tranquil as I listened to a few birds chirping in the distance.