So Tyler took me to the Park That Must Not Be Named today out on the lake. We swung back and forth on the curving road with all the windows open, and climbed down the not quite cliff not quite hill. Seriously, there are a half dozen steps and then it's mountain goat terrority. I'm sure it is fine if you have any sense of balance, unlike myself. But once you get down the Slope of Doom, you're at the water.
It was perfect today, like a movie still. Everything was quiet, and we were the only people there. Little fish the size of my hand swim around the rocks by the shoreline. Floating out in the green blue water with the sun directly overhead, I was happy. When you kick down, the water gets cold several feet below the surface. The sky is perfect summer blue, speckled with puffy clouds. Now and then a boat would pass by out beyond the buoys, and the wake would ripple down to the rocks. I laid on my back in the water, bobbing up and down in the waves. I dried out sitting on the big white rock. When Tyler was sprawled out up there, he looked like a summer poster boy with brown skin and black tattoos on limestone boulders.
We'll have to go again, because I can't think of a more perfect spot on the lake.
It feels like summer, and I'm glad.
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