I remember the water and the wind —

in the Adirondacks,in our small blue canoe.

I remember the child’s paddle in my hands,

with the muscles on my back and shoulders,tense and pulsing,with each stroke.I was maintaining our position in the waterbecause I wasn’t strong enough yetto move us forwardlike Dad or Mom

could.

I remember how the rain hit my small back

and stung each time,like bee stings.

And I remember fightingthe two-foot waves that splashedover and into our blue canoe.

I remember feeling so powerful,

and invincible,even though a good wave could flip us,and even though I was five,

I felt strong.

I felt strong among the storm,

among the bee-sting rain,among the sharp wind,among the two-foot waves that soaked me,among my little sister, three years old and scared.

And I remember being within all that chaos,

and thunder and lighting,and tense muscles,and strong paddle strokes,and pumping blood,and chaos.

I was immersed in the water and the wind.

And I was

laughing.