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I blazed a trail through the pond’s copious green algae, swam around a buoy, and pulled myself up onto the grassy shore. After catching my breath, I wanted to know where the water flowed next. I noticed in one boggy corner a culvert, which ran beneath Cedarwood Road. I had seen this concrete tunnel many times from the road. I had even stood on it, skipping rocks. But until this afternoon, I had never wondered what it was for.

I walked along the shore to the culvert and observed the gurgling inflow. It occurred to me that this was the water’s next pathway, underground through this pipe. I followed it across a series of wooded backyards, tracking an old streambed to where the water surfaced again through the grated end of the concrete tube. The creek flowed lazily to the east and then entered another dark, whispering tunnel. From its entrance, I could see the windows of my bedroom.

My siblings and I had always referred to this patch of woods as the “creek.” We played there, built dams and rapids, swimming holes and forts. Deer occasionally happened through. This was one of the places where I dug in the earth, searching for clues.