For months we’ve driven across the reservoir bridge.

Every time, I’ve thought the same thing.

We have to figure out how to get down there.

But there was always somewhere to be. Another errand. Another destination.

Today, we stopped.

I pulled off the main road, found a place to park, and we set off.

It’s not a park.

There’s no trailhead. No visitor center. No sign telling you you’ve arrived somewhere worth exploring.

Just an old bridge tucked below street level and a short stretch of pavement stretching across the water.

We stood there watching a cormorant dip below the surface, guessing where it would emerge next, when I heard,

“Look at that slime patch!”

“Where?”

“There.”

“The green with the white balls on top?”

“Yup.”

“That’s actually a lily pad.”

“…Woah.”

For a moment, the world became a little more detailed than it had been a minute before.

Not because we’d traveled far.

Not because we’d planned an adventure.

Simply because we stopped long enough to notice.

We’ve driven across that bridge dozens of times.

But now we know there are lily pads below. 

Sometimes a quick detour and a little slime patch are all you need.