By the Lake

He was waiting, sitting by the lake watching the gray water ripple and flow, the slow wind pushing it steadily away from the shore. A sign on a tree by the bank warned in black and red: NO SWIMMING SWIMMING CAN CAUSE ILLNESS. His mind drifted back to that hot summer day when, after work, his dad first took him swimming, to the creek on the way to Mammoth, just a short ride from home. The creek ran through a field behind the Klayka's house and barn and they had to chase the cows out of the stream when they got there. He watched his father strip down to his shorts, the dark green Army ones, and he did the same, just leaving their clothes in piles on the bank above the creek. His father dove in and came up backwards near the opposite side, sliding slow and smooth and easy through the brown water. He ran, holding his nose, mouth clamped shut, his right arm flailing the air, and jumped, feet hitting the mucky bottom, and sprang up, head and shoulders popping out of the water, water flying all around him, light exploding in his eyes. The water was warm but it felt good there in the stream with his father that hot summer day.