At the Lake

I love walking to the lake a night. Just a few minutes through the cooling evening air and I’m here, sand beneath my sneakers and the steady lull of lapping as water pushes against shore. One of my greatest struggles is simply sitting still, the art of doing nothing. But settling onto the dock that stretches fifty feet into the water, for a few brief minutes sitting still seems like enough.
It doesn’t take much for me to give in. The world out here is deliriously peaceful: tiny pinpricks of stars, the lights of homes dotting the far side of the lake, and that lovely, uninhibited sound of water brought to life by wind.
What more does one need after a day of smiling young writers? After a lunch hour filled with trills and tremolos of practicing musicians? After a hard workout at the new gym? After a floating society of fireflies guided me to the lake shore?

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