Tonight, I walk down searching for my special clearing by the lake.
My kayak hides among thick shrub, a smell of life hits my nose. It is seven o’clock at night and my feet swiftly press into the damp earth with every step. Fireflies begin to rub their drowsy eyes and emerge, but only a few.
I move to the dock on the sleepy lake, encountering a smell of muck and wet sand. It is still light out but everyone already turned in for dinner and sleep.
The sleepy sparrows cry a song of rest. This is the greatest yet most forgotten kind of day.
I slide my blue kayak away from the shrubs, off the earth and into the water. Minnows rocket around in excitement as the kayak rocks and I carefully climb in. The thick water hugs the bottom of the boat.
I grab my paddle, hit a little sand then move my first few strokes into the great, grand mirror reflecting the hued sky framed by damp dark trees.
The birds are so alive. Hunting for their dinner before nightfall, purple martins athletically twirl and swoop above the water. Blue gills and small minnows jump and splash like dolphins to catch a meal of their own.
My arms burn slightly as my paddle cuts through the thick water. The air smells of dewy flowers and lake weeds. Thick but naturally a part of myself, I breathe what all of these living things breathe.
The goal is to get around the bend. There, the sunset is seen in full, a magnificent, naturally made masterpiece.
The bend is in sight, a protruding peninsula in soft water. A muskrat twirls playfully alongside as I push around to see a peaking sun. A few more yards or so.
The sun as a goddess presents herself cloaked in a robe of grand burnt colors. Her skin a light brown hue, hair draped in waves along her back.
My paddle secured by leathery rope sits on the front of the kayak, my eyes watch as the goddess gets ready for sleep. Silhouettes of gulls fly in the distance. As the sun falls asleep a bright moon awakens. This goddess wears a cloak of stars, a cold misty white. A pale face with glowing bright yellow eyes, framed by long blonde hair.
A light haze stains the now dark water. The cold light of stars twinkle to infinity—my own time for sleep is at hand. This is not my world, but for snow white owls, coons and zippy bats. A different kind of beauty.
The moon glides with my kayak until my home is in view. She then moves to the middle of the sky in a misty bright glory. Feet in cold water, soft sand below, my kayak is pulled on to shore.
Fireflies in full force ignite the yard in streams of soft light as I make way to my other home. Windows lit, dog asleep upon a cozy couch. Feeling the cool air one last time before I walk into my humble home, I bid this world goodnight.
Author: Hannah Seelman
Editor: Alli Sarazen