We sat in the emerald canoe
slowly gliding through the
lily pads and cattail trails,
our lines submerged in the turquoise water.

Our backs rested on damp life vests,
puddles massaged our toes,
and crickets leaped like dancers from
lily pad to lily pad.

The lake smelled like an early morning sunrise.
Our knuckles were a bit swollen from rowing. We had
dirt on our knees
and grass in our hair.
We listened as cicadas came to life,
singing to a steady beat.

I took out my pb&j
and gave her the turkey n’ cheese.
We dropped crumbs of rye in the lake
and watched the bluegills swim through the lily pads to retrieve.

This was the only place where we heard silence.
No demands or Kwame like gibberish.
We came out here to unwind and
escape from our meddling siblings and controlling parents.
The waters were soothing.

And so, every year up at the cabanas,
we explore the vast nature
and indulge on corner store custard,
and pretend what life would be like if it was just her and I.