We asked them “Do you want to try it on your own?” They both said yes. Not a blink of “maybe.”
They grabbed paddles, bulked themselves up with life jackets and cut a path through the lily pads. A canoe, all for themselves.
They sway, they scream, they laugh, they give each other sailing names and they promise to come back in a few minutes.
At first they paddle along the shores though the lake is calm. Cautious but itching to go. They hop on the shore a few times, docking the canoe with the the nonchalance of canoe veterans. It’s charming to watch.
They come on the log where we sit, a long arm the shore has extended into the lake, a reminder of how the ground and the water will always be entwined.
“Mom, a snail shell for you!” My boys’ gifts, seen and unseen. Treasures.
The sky is light blue in preparation for another sunset. They hop into the canoe, ready for take off, and become two red specks in a their own special green lily pad. Laughter from afar slides over the water and climbs like a vine around my soul.
With every thread of water they carry over the surface of the lake, the boys are growing up… They laugh, learn and float into a world that has them thirsty for adventure.
They signal their first ever crossing of a lake by themselves. “We made it!” Yes, you have. And so much more. Keep going. No, come back! How could I ever get this right? I want them to learn, to dare, but to be safe. To be near. For now. For ever. Somehow, they will be. Their voices will trail back to my soul no matter how far they go. So keep going, the world awaits!
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