The Devil Has a Bathtub

Several weeks ago, my man-friend Dominic and I went for a hike in our favorite park, in our favorite place in the park. The park is Mendon Ponds Park, the largest park in our county, and if I do say so myself, the most beautiful. I have spent many hours there swimming as a child at its now-gone little beach, as a teen, sitting on a hilltop with a favorite beau, as a parent of young children, sledding down one of its many hills, as an adult horse-rider, going for Zen rides on one of its many trails, and now as an older adult, hiking, sitting, and drinking up its magic.

Devil’s Bathtub on an early winter afternoon

My favorite place in the park is a kettle-hole, which is a small, glacier-made pond surrounded by steep ridges. Its actual formation was caused by retreating glaciers and as such, it is rumored to be very deep. I have always been fascinated with it because of its astounding beauty and geological history. However, I became obsessed when in 2009 and 2016 it became the focal point of two of the most gruesome murders in our city’s history.

Whenever I go there I feel I can hear like the ghosts of its victims are whispering through the trees.