海角大神

Zing!

Such is the sound of the towline as it flies from my grip and the motorboat drags it away. It is also the end of my effort to stand on two blue boards marked 鈥渂eginners鈥� and sail across a lake behind a speedboat.

鈥淚鈥檝e had it, Dad. Come get me!鈥� I know he can鈥檛 hear me as he zooms off. Besides, I know what he will say. 鈥淚t鈥檚 easy, sweetheart. Just stand up and let the boat do the rest.鈥�

Well, I鈥檝e tried to follow his advice, but my shaky legs tell me it鈥檚 over. How did it come to this?

My father determined that his brood of teenage offspring should learn to听water-ski. He knew little about it, but he saw others on the lake with zippy crafts and gleeful skiers, and decided to join the fun. He bought two sets of skis, a short round-tipped blue set for me and my sister, and two streamlined pointed ones for my three brothers.

On a hot day, he hooked up the rope and loaded us into life jackets.

One by one, he pulled the boys to and fro, waving to neighbors on their docks. Then it was the girls鈥� turn. I gamely jumped in the lake, donned the two clunky skis, pointed them out of the water, and gripped the towline with trembling hands. I had no idea what to do. My father dismissed my fears with a wave of his hand. 鈥淜eep the tips up, sweetheart.鈥�

Anyone who has tried to rise up on skis from the middle of a lake knows the brittle snap as a towrope wrenches from wet hands. I鈥檝e heard it one time too many today. It鈥檚 time to give up. But here comes my dad hauling the line, ready for me to try again. After all, the boys did it; why can鈥檛 I? I signal that I am ready to get back in the boat, but he smiles and yells, 鈥淭his time will be magic!鈥�

With that, he U-turns and heads slowly away from me, steering the line over my shoulder. I grip the plastic bar, position my feet, and grit my teeth. I scour the cloudless sky for a sign and spot a distant wisp. My heart floats up a plea. Tell me how to make this time different.

Dad guns the engine.

The weight of an entire lake is on my chest, pushing me back.

Like a light switched on in a dark room, my father鈥檚 words show me the way.

鈥淛ust stand up, angel.鈥�

I cried aloud, 鈥淛ust do it.鈥� And so I did.

I take a deep breath and straighten my legs. My clumsy, blue skis begin to skim the lake, like a sea gull scanning for snacks.

The simple insight from that sultry summer day propelled me often during those formative years. The determination to just follow an instruction helped me master a tricky barrel roll in a sophomore ballet program. It spurred me to perform complex impressionist piano music at a senior recital. And it shepherded my adult self out into the world. The day I graduated from college, it redeemed the faint sound I swear I鈥檇 heard as my mortarboard flew through the air.

Zing!

听