SKIPPING STONES

Remember the occasion. The lake just before sunset, after the hotdogs and corn on the cob. Your mother’s old friend, your best grown-up friend visiting from Wisconsin– showed you how.

Choose a flat stone. Hold your fingers so, angle your arm.

Remember when it first happened– the miracle of stone slipping over silver water, carving an orange path that bound the beach to the mountains and the sun. Gulls reeled and screamed. Your mother packed up the basket and your father extinguished the fire.

Can you do it now? Can you float a slice of Earth– for an instant make every necessary connection? Can you believe there is somewhere an answer you can still understand?