My treasure

Every kid growing up in our little village in the north of England has heard the story about the magic lake which, once covered with ice as the freezing winter days come, can show those who look into it something valuable. The legend says that only those who really want what they see can get the treasure as a Christmas present from the kind spirit of the lake. I remember my sister and me going to that lake every year from the middle of November, hoping to see the first thin layer of ice covering it. It had been our tradition ever since our granny told us the story when we were about 5 and 6, and today, 12 years later, again we put on our warmest sweaters, woollen scarves and mittens as we plan to sit by the lake till our noses turn as red as the rowan berries on the tree that is visible from our room’s window, and hope to find our treasure.

You might ask what kind of treasure a child could expect to find. Well, when I went there for the first time, I was hoping to see a beautiful doll dressed in a pink fluffy dress with ruffles. My friend Emmy had one just like that. To be honest, at first I wanted to become friends with her only because of that dream of any young girl. But our friendship grew into something much more than that. However, I felt guilty for a long time because of my selfish intentions, and when we were once playing truth or dare, I told her the whole truth. I felt so relieved when she didn’t seem to get upset but, on the contrary, only laughed at how dramatic I was for keeping that as some dangerous secret. Obviously after that, our friendship only became stronger.

So the biggest treasure for a 6-year-old girl was, obviously, the vintage doll. I can’t even remember what exactly I was hoping to find under the ice in the next couple of years — but I guess those were again different dolls and toys, like a monkey Christmas tree ornament dressed in clown clothes, or roller skates. Yes, I know it would be fair to say that my idea of a treasure was quite primitive back in those days, but don’t be too harsh with a child.

However, life made us mature earlier than we would have liked. When my sister was 14 and I had just turned 15, our mother got ill. She was very weak and could hardly leave her bed for several months. She caught that strange disease at the end of summer, and when by October her health didn’t seem to strengthen at all, I was begging the heavens to let her live till winter, as I was sure I would see her healed and full-of-colour face on the ice surface. That year my sister and I both wished to see only that, with all the sincerity we had.

However, that never happened, as our mother died before the real colds came. I remember being so angry that I didn’t want to go to the lake that year, but my sister Lily insisted we go, as she said that maybe we could see our mother in it. I saw how important it was for her, that’s why I agreed to accompany her, even though I knew for sure that there must be some limitations to the power of the lake spirit, and probably bringing people back to life would be one of them. As you can guess, our mother never appeared in the lake and Lily grew as angry and desperate as I was, so for the next 3 years we skipped our tradition. That was the sign of a broken faith — and of maturing, I guess.

However, as I said, today again my sister and I have decided to go to the frozen lake. Though I don’t think this time either of us was hoping to see anything in it. We were just wishing to bring back some magic and hope into our lives. Yet the fact that the last time we wished for our mother to come back probably brought some new realisation to the whole legend. That year the biggest treasure for us wasn’t something material — it was our mother, her love, her warmth, and our desire to love and protect her, where we unfortunately failed.

“My treasures, can you bring on your way back home a loaf of bread for dinner?”

“Of course, Granny.”

My grandmother always calls us that way. I love her very much — I love how caring and supportive she can be. Even though I love my mother more than anyone in this world, I should admit that there were situations when I needed my grandmother’s advice first.

This year on our way to the lake we were unnaturally silent. Probably we needed some time to think of what had changed since the last time we had been there. Lost in our thoughts, we didn’t even notice how we reached the destination. The tall rocks surrounding the lake reminded us of the goal of our late walk.

“Are you ready?” I asked Lily, taking her hand in mine. She looked at me and nodded. A heavy sigh left our lungs as we stepped forward. I knew that the frozen water was just underneath my feet, but I couldn’t find the strength to look into it. Finally, I opened one eye and saw my own reflection in the ice, as always. So I opened my second eye, realising that nothing had changed during those 3 years. It was the same place, the same lake, and the same broken hope. We looked at our reflections for a couple of minutes and silently went back home.

“Have you bought the bread, girls?”

“Oh, I am so sorry. We absolutely forgot about that. I’ll go and bring some now.”

“There is no need. We have some left. And for dinner I’ll ask your father to bring more.”

“I am really sorry, Granny.”

“No need to be so dramatic, my dear. It’s just bread. But what so special have you seen in the lake this time that you forgot about my request?”

“Nothing special. Only our own reflections.”

When Lily said that, I noticed a strange smirk on my granny’s face as she replied:

“No worries, my treasures, one day you will see something really special in it.”

“I highly doubt that,” said Lily, going upstairs. However, Granny’s last words made me stop for a moment. Why does she always call us treasures? Why has she never told us that it was time to stop waiting for some winter miracle? Maybe she wanted us to understand something ourselves? I raised my eyes to her only to see her approving smile.

“Maybe you have already seen something special?”

“Granny…” I couldn’t find the right words. But there was something I needed to verify. I put my scarf back on and went into the dark night.

When I returned to the place we had left just an hour ago, I knelt by the lake and looked into it. I saw a beautiful girl looking back at me. She didn’t have perfect facial features — her nose was a little too big, and her upper lip was a little short, revealing the front teeth — yet she was beautiful. Her eyes were kind, and the smile that appeared on her surprised face was so sincere that it was impossible not to love her. I touched her face on the cold ice; then I saw her touching her own face as I did the same. Finally, I smiled again, this time more confidently.

Probably that was what my grandmother wanted me to realise. That is why she had been supporting our faith in this little miracle all these years.

When I came back home, I ran immediately to my grandmother and hugged her. She didn’t need any words — she understood everything from my hug.

“My treasure, I am glad you finally saw what I see. But don’t tell your sister. She needs to see that herself.”

“Okay, I won’t. But it’s not fair. All the magic you’ve been telling me about was just a psychological test.”

“Who said that it’s just that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the lake doesn’t give you a treasure unless you see it in yourself.”

“You’ve just come up with that theory, haven’t you?”

“Who knows, my dear. Who knows?”

Sometimes her mystery was driving me crazy, but I am grateful that she always left room for some winter magic in our lives.