They are the ones who are more adventurous than me. I am the only one who wants to be as adventurous as them. Two long docks with wooden panels and thin frames. Two who were there but are there no longer. One raggedy and homemade, the other strong and purchased.  From our cabin, we couldn’t see them, but my family just sleeps and waits until morning.

Their location is secret. They send 4x4 sections up with the wake. They raise up and they sink down and disappear beneath the dark surges that swallow them whole. And this is how they stay.

Let one after another, they’d all float like buoys on a glass calm day, each with their bodies flying above the others, bouncing on the tops. Bang, Bang, bang they say when I look. They escape.

When I am too tired and too lazy to keep watching, when I am a single child against so many rain drops, then it is I who falls asleep. When there is nothing left to look at of the docks. Two who escaped despite gravity. Two who stayed in place so long. Two whose only reason is to stay.