Float
My Grandmother's house was near a lake. In the early years of my childhood, we would swim when we visited, and when I was about nine years old, we moved in with Grandma. So, huge portions of each summer were spent in that lake, splashing and gliding. My sisters and I knew every inch of the lake bed that stretched out in front of the house, knew where it might dip suddenly, where you were likely to cut your foot on a clam shell, or where you could dig up the dark grey clay hiding just beneath the sand. Rain or cold wouldn't stop us from swimming, and when Mom said it was time to get out of the water, it was always too early- no matter how pruny our fingers or how terribly our teeth chattered. The deep green scent and gentle lapping of the waves were a constant presence in my life and continue to invigorate my dreams. To this day, the proximity of a large body of water is like spending time with an old friend, a quiet happiness and comfort that needs no words. I never learned to ...