Dock

     The water rushed along my legs, my feet buried in the sand. I could occasionally feel the fish brushing up against my ankles, trying to figure out what I was. The water was cold, as it always was in the mornings. I looked down and rummaged my hands through the sand beneath me, trying to find some rock. I did this every morning; tried to find a rock, and just admired it for some time. Today’s rock was one of my favorites; a shimmery grey that looked lavender when wet. It glistened in the sunlight, and was perfectly round, and fit nicely in the palm of my hand. As the sunrise faded into day, I would hoist myself onto the dock. I wouldn’t stand as I did in the water before; I would sit and just listen to the world. Listen to the sounds of the songbirds looking for worms, the sounds of the waves hitting the dock, the mosquitos, and bees that whizzed past my ears. I would look into the water and see the fish swimming around, the sea plants swaying in the waves, and the rocks that nested themselves in the sand. I let my feet dangle in the water, to the point where they would become pruned. However, my favorite part of it all was watching the sky and the horizon. I could see the trees moving in the wind, the clouds changing throughout the day, and the sunrise fading into the day. The sun would hit my face and leave me reddened and freckled. It would sting for a while, and it would continue to sting until I put the aloe on at noon. It was all beautiful. Nothing more beautiful than that lake, I don’t think. The peace, the contentment, that came from that place, brought me to more discoveries than the explorers knew possible.