Lake Again

We returned to that miniature ocean known as a lake. For those of my readers who are uncertain of the difference between a lake and an ocean, the distinguishing factor is this: lakes are less horrifying. From a distance, a lake looks completely benign, but when one gets closer, one realizes that it is surrounded by sand, the dirtiest and grittiest of all ground substances. I walked with Daddy up until the grass turned to sand, and refused to go further at first. After being placed on a blankie and playing for a time there, I became accustomed to the idea of the sand, but only if my flippies remained upon my feet.

"I do not know about this, Mommy..."

"I am happy here, and shall go no further."

My place along the shore allowed me to appreciate the water, watch others play in the water, and distract myself from the sand.

I even began the arduous process of putting all of the sand back into the water. Daddy saw what I was doing, and asked what I was doing. I paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing sand into the lake. The lake has washed it up onto the beach and it cannot return to the lake by themselves. When I come to the lake, I will have to walk upon the sand unless I throw it back into the water." 

Daddy replied, "But there must be tens of thousands of shovelfuls of sand on the beach. I'm afraid you won't be really able to make much of a difference." 

I bent down, scooped up yet another shovelful of sand, and threw it as far as I could into the lake. Then I turned, smiled, and said, "It made a difference to that one!"

 I then moved on to rocks, which was more enjoyable anyway, and inevitably drew me further into the depths of the lake than I have ever gone by myself before.