I walked down the worn and historic steps. Peering through the green, I saw the dock down below, just as we had left it. Reaching the bottom, I stepped out onto the dock, and settled into the sun. The air was calm. I gripped with each hand the two metal poles at the end of the dock. I held on, draping myself out over the water, admiring its clarity. I looked down at the anchor permanently lodged into the lake floor, and thought of the grandfather I never got the chance to meet. I dipped my foot into the water and felt the creamy quality of the lake. I backed up, looked across the cove, and prepared myself to run. I started off. Quick steps, faster, faster, and eventually, I was gliding in the air, awaiting a cool entrance. Floating down I lifted my arms above my head to feel millions of bubbles rise to the surface. I opened my eyes to find beams of light coming from the dark bottom, surrounded by a serene green. I emerged from the water and sat on the ancient playground ladder, letting my body adjust.
I looked up the set of fifty six steps I had counted as a youth, thinking we had the largest staircase on the lake, to find my dad with a drink in hand, carefully making his way down. He hung his sunglasses on one of the poles, took one last drink, and dove straight in. I turned away, scrunching up my face to avoid his splash. The trees were still, and the lake silent. A boat passing by caused numerous waves to head toward the dock. I jumped into them, racing with time, speedily getting out, only to dive back in again. I repeated this pattern until all the waves had ceased.
As I wrung the water from my hair, the air turned cold, and it was time to go up. We grabbed our towels hanging on the broken railing and ascended into reality.
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