A/N: Previous published in The Sandhill Review (2004).
Line in the Water
We sat in the refreshing night air on the slanted wooden dock. Sand prickled underneath our shorts as we dangled our feet into the water which was warmer than the air. Empty sandals sat behind us, and we laughed as Dave struggled out of his socks and sneakers in order to join us in the water.
Six of us sat in a row, kicking idly at the water, watching the stars above the boathouse and the reeds in the lake. The ripples played with the yellow light coming from the house. The breeze cooled our pink sunburned shoulders.
Reeds and soft breezes didn’t make a dam to hold back the reality within that house. The future called, and we tried not to listen. We drew our battle line in the water, and it melted away before the fight even began.
Every year, we try to stop time from this very spot. We wish that we could take the boat out at night and sail away to safety. But we don’t have enough light to make the night safe enough for travel. Instead, we sit and listen to someone else’s fireworks.