“There’s something magical about being able to choose the people you keep in your life”
- Colleen Hoover, Maybe Now
I walked to the lake at lunchtime yesterday, and the first thin layer of ice had formed. It was so clear that I could see the ice crystals, tiny geometric shapes spreading across the surface (photo above). The night before had been perfectly calm and cold, exactly the conditions ice needs to grow.
Ice crystals begin as tiny, delicate structures, but they don’t stay small for long. Once a crystal forms, it becomes a magnet for nearby water molecules, which lock into its lattice and extend its shape. As temperatures drop and the water remains still, more crystals collide, attach, and branch outward, forming intricate patterns that grow layer by layer. This additive process is what turns scattered ice crystals into larger plates and sheets, each crystal building on the last until the lake’s surface stitches itself into a continuous skin of ice.
Watching that transformation made me think about the people in my life and how those relationships built slowly too. Just like ice needs stillness to grow, relationships need time and space to take shape. They expanded with every move, every job, every new stage of my kids’ lives. Like ice crystals drifting toward each other, individual friendships began to overlap, and before long whole groups had joined together. After 48 years, it turns out I know a lot of people.
I moved towns twice growing up, then went to college, then Chicago, Minneapolis, and finally northern Minnesota. I still know people from every place I’ve lived and every job I’ve had. Since having kids, our circle here has grown to include parents from their classes, teams, and activities. Every year I seem to meet new people in town. My most recent example of this is joining the Music Boosters board at our high school. Sometimes we lose touch with friends but then reconnect later over shared experiences and memories.
My entire network of people I know is like the full sheet of ice on the lake. As humans we are meant to make connections. And standing there yesterday, staring at that new ice, I felt this rush of gratitude for how many people I’ve met, loved, learned from, and carried with me. It’s a whole sheet of memories, linked by time and care. Soon the lake will be solid, ready for ice fishing and skating, and I wonder what new connections will form in the months ahead.
Moriya Rufer is a lake biologist with 20 years experience working with and loving lakes in northern Minnesota.
Leave a Reply