The blue water reached from the windows of the college hall way out to the horizon. No sailboats as far out as you could see. Just the blue surface of the water and the lighter blue sky and white clouds. The evening waves lapped quietly onto the rocks below.
A few miles away the city festival filled the streets with rock music, people, and the smell of brats and hot pretzels. Everyone smiled, forgetting their problems from the day. The lake helped with that. It was there when they rushed from their breakfast, and later when they attended to business, and now when they could visit. It was there, always.
A young mother bent over a stroller to comfort her baby who cried at the slanting sunshine. Her boy sneaked toward the water. He wanted to get something for his sister–a piece of the lake, so she could see how blue it was.
He scooped his bright orange bucket into the shallow waves of swirling brown sand, and was puzzled again that here the lake turned clear. He lifted it anyway, watching the water slosh from side to side almost spilling over the edges. In a few steps he looked into her stroller. “See! I brought you a piece of the lake!
His sister blinked her blue eyes and looked directly into his, her tiny fingers opening and closing. The boy dipped his hand into the cool, clear water, then touched his wet fingers to his sister’s. She smiled and gurgled and lifted her little fist to her mouth.
The boy smiled. “See! I brought you a piece of the lake! This piece isn’t blue, but when you get bigger you’ll see that the whole lake is. And we’ll play in it together.”
And his sister stretched her arms out to him, and again she smiled and gurgled.