I wade in the cool water feeling the drenched jacket that once gave me chills as I was putting it on, clinging to me with support to keep me afloat. I also feel the firm grip of the boots around my feet. I even get to taste the freshness of the water as some of it slips into my mouth. I see the smooth lavender of my ski glistening atop of the water. Behind that I see the black and white boat that we tend to call “The Bear” idling, slowly creeping forward, letting the slack that runs between me and him lessen. Held in my hand is a black handle with rubber grip, which connects me to a kaleidoscopic rope that runs across the water to the boat.
Then I align myself behind the boat I get a flash of nervousness and the thought “What if I don’t get up?” sprints through my head. At that I usually shout the words “hit it” to signal that
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This is the picture perfect moment I think of everytime I think of skiing at the most beautiful place on earth, also known as Bass Lake. The glass water below me is stretched out to as far as I can see and it overwhelms me with a warm joy and a sense of belonging. It reminds me of all that I have to be happy and thankful for. I feel the wind against my wet skin, chilling me for only a moment before I’m forced to forget about it by all of my surrounding beauty. I am suddenly immersed in an astonishing garden of lush pine trees, that stretch over hill tops until you can only see the color green and not of what makes it. When I look down I see the water darting past me and behind me I can see the miniature wake that replicates the boat in front of me. When I cut across the wake of the boat at high-speed I feel a surge of energy and adrenaline that pushes me to cut harder and keep going across those two bumps of water chasing the boat, back and forth. If I listen ever so intently I can hear my lavender ski singing, she whistles to me as I glide across the glassy