The Worst and Best Scenario

Everyone here is sleeping. It’s late afternoon in the summer. It’s what creatures do.

I am texting with my husband who is canoeing with one of our sons on Sable Lake. He sends a picture of an eagle, a photo of our son paddling, and then the text “Hard and windy.”

I immediately picture the canoe capsizing and both of them drowning. (Never mind the canoe is nearly capsize-proof and they are both wearing life jackets.) Getting a rescue team there, assuming anyone was able to call 911, would take so long, rescue would become a recovery operation. How long would they float? Would they ever be found? How would I get our canoe back?

Earlier on a hike up to the dunes overlooking Lake Superior, I imagined myself taking a wrong step, careening down the mountain of sand and ending up with two broken legs at the bottom. You can imagine the agony of having to haul myself back up the dune, my legs useless bloody appendages, my arms quivering with effort, sobs wracking my body. And then there’s the thirst.

It was a fleeting thought, though. I dream up these catastrophic scenarios for just seconds and then they evaporate. Today, the horrific tumble down the dune was replaced in my head by the chant the instructor led at the end of every line dancing class. “Thank God, I can move! Thank God, I can move! Thank God, I can move!”

That became my mantra on the hike back. I stopped to admire these perfect blue berries, berries that are blue, just to be clear.

To remember the hike and to cover a hole that Swirl chewed in my new Grand Marais hoodie, I bought this wonderful patch. I feel like a Girl Scout again. All but one creature is awake now. I’ll let you guess which one.