The Yellow Kayak

August fourth.

There was a sign. I want to be clear about this, there was an actual sign at the park entrance that said KAYAK RENTALS and had a little arrow, and normally I would have clocked it, thought 'that looks fun,' and then walked right past it and gone home and made lunch. This is what I usually do. I have a very reliable system for not doing things I'd probably enjoy but haven't planned for.

I didn't do that this time. I don't know why. I turned and followed the arrow.

The guy at the rental stand asked if I'd kayaked before and I said 'sure' with the confidence of someone who had absolutely not kayaked before, or at least not in any recent memory that would be practically useful. He handed me the paddle with a brief explanation that I retained roughly forty percent of, and then I was in the water in a bright orange life jacket, completely on my own, in a yellow kayak that immediately demonstrated it had opinions about which direction we were going. We disagreed for probably the first fifteen minutes. Then we reached something like a truce.

Her form was perfect. (She had no form.)

Here is what I wrote in my head while I was out there, because apparently I do that: the lake in August is louder than I expected. There are bugs and birds and kids yelling from a picnic somewhere on the bank, and the paddle makes a sound every time it cuts the water, and none of it is quiet, but it still has the quality of being away from something. I stayed out for almost two hours. My arms told me about it for three days afterward. I have no memory of the last time I said yes to something without a plan and then stayed in it long enough to feel like I'd actually been somewhere.

I photographed the paddle on the dock before I gave it back. Not the lake, not the kayak, not anything composed, just the paddle sitting on the wooden rail in the afternoon light. It's a little blurry. I kept it anyway. The sketchbook is still on my counter with two drawings in it, Gerald is still alive, the collapsed bowl is still on the windowsill, and now somewhere on my camera roll there is a slightly blurry paddle. Apparently this is what summer looks like from here.