Tradition

The son’s strokes are inexperienced, the father whispers instruction and the paddle digs deeply into the gin-clear waters. The child smiles, as the kayak slides effortlessly across the glass calm lake. A brilliant sun crests the horizon, igniting the morning sky. The man having seen a thousand sunrises relishes in his child’s enjoyment of the exquisite sight. Trout ripple, ospreys soar, a beaver tail slaps . . . the boy intently watches in silent awe.