Dock Dreams

There is a dock I know where the sun shines strongest at noon. Where I can lay my towel over a folding chair and read with nothing but the dragonflies to distract me. Where the rest of the family later congregates for long conversations about plans and politics, stories and songs. Cousins swim until their lips turn blue. Parents soak in the summer heat and join them. Reluctant to leave the spot, volunteers bring plates of grilled cheese, slices of watermelon, and seltzer. We move in a smooth cycle from the dock to the boat, from the board to the water, and round again. Every minute that passes is a mile further from the workday rush that we've all left behind until the distance is so great that we can finally fathom the return.