Wading in May

May as a teenager. School year wrapped up. Working on the Huffy’s bike tires, busting my knuckles on the gears. Trip to Traverse City bookstore for a couple novels. Maybe checking a spy series out of the IAA library. Trading someone for floppy disks with pirated Apple II games. Maybe building 200 custom levels of Loderunner from my dad’s big desk chair in his den. 400 acre campus switching from school year to summer camp. Bike rides through the woods to check out new construction, repaired cabins, the docks going up on two lakes. Knowing the paint crew by name. Knowing the residents of each cabin. Wading across the Little Betsy where the train trestle crosses, the river bottom deepened by an eddy and cold on bare toes. Bike rides through the state park at all times of day: smelling campfires, admiring freckles, learning about boats pulled up on the beach, the moon following me home down the wide path between white pines.

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