There’s nothing like hearing the roar of a boat engine dim as it drives away, leaving a wake of waves behind that roll toward me in my kayak. Sometimes the waves look alarmingly large and a moment of worry bubbles inside me. 

Will this be the wave that flips me into the water? 

Of course not. My kayak bobs over, soaring up and gliding down each set of waves. Sometimes I giggle. Sometimes I lift my paddle out of the water and yell, “Wee!” Sometimes I just let the water carry me.

The feeling of floating is euphoric, when that misplaced worry melts into trust. Once I’m in my boat with my seat and foot pedals adjusted just the way I like them, I can feel my worries melt away. I hear my mind grow quiet. 

To make friends with all kinds of naughty water is the lesson of the lake. 

Choppy water from incessant motor boat traffic rocks my kayak back and forth. Wind pushes against me, resisting my paddle strokes forward. A headwind invites my muscles to engage. 

Inhale: paddle left, exhale: paddle right. Slow, consistent movement through erratic boat traffic and sharp gusts of wind. 

My body extends, opening up from winter’s hunch. No longer clinging to my core, shivering with clenched fists. I relax into movement. The paddle is but an extension of my arms. 

My mind has learned to read the water, noticing where the wind is pushing and which direction it’s coming from. In between the ripples coming toward me like a current is smooth water that snakes through the canyon, switching sides depending on where the walls are providing break from the wind. I zig zag, allowing my boat to follow the path of least resistance.  

I’ve found a meditative movement on the lake. No matter the state of the water, glassy or wavy, all I need to do is put that paddle in the water. Left, right, back and forth. With no great strain or effort. Consistency is all that matters. 

Some days the water does not resist me. I glide on top of an impossibly deep lake, day after day, matching my inhales with the left side stroke and exhales with the right. Sun beats down on my neck and shimmers on the surface. The water dripping off my paddle onto my lap is welcome.

The dry, Arizona heat wakes me up in a way winter never can. 

Shrieks from splashing into cold water and the exhalation of calm “ahhh”s release any lingering thoughts. I am free to float on my back and look up at the sliver of sky that winds between two canyon walls. When I’m swimming, my bones are weightless. My breath is slow.

My heart beats for summer. 

Early morning water laps gently against the sandstone shoreline. Afternoon waves crash into canyon walls and bounce back toward the middle of the lake. Evening water simmers into glass.

Summer in Page tastes like sunscreen, sweat, and freedom. The heat brings out the orange in the rock. Burnt red and pale in the midday sun.

Time slows. Adults take off work. Kids are free from school. Goals shift to going outside. The water excludes technology, so we talk more. We take photos but mostly we take more time to be together.

Lake days are full of giggling guests, sisters splashing each other and friends frolicking on sandy beaches. Each day the sun stays out longer and longer, and summer feels endless.

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