At the lakeshore of my childhood, under a cloudless blue sky, I notice nothing has changed—the wide green grass, the warm damp earth, the air hazy with heat. The way time slows as I gaze at the lake’s shimmering surface.
On the dock a saxophonist plays, startling geese into flight. Beside me, my son holds up a gray bass, its dark eyes flashing as it fights for life.
How sweet the relief when its fins touch water, how fortunate for both fish and boy. To be in this place where beauty is plentiful, where life swims and settles and stays.