It was suppose to a normal day on the boat. Many times my father, sister, and I had ventured out onto Lake Michigan. But this time was different.
The clock's hands were reaching for nine as I slapped some jelly onto the nutty grain bread. I squeezed it together with a slice already containing peanut butter, just like I had for the two previous sandwiches. Lunch was ready, the cooler was in the jeep, the towels and essentials for the water were packed, and the boat was ready to set sail.
We set sail out of a habor in the next town and so our trip began. It was quite nice at first, the waves were gently rocking, the sun was the glowing heat source in the sky, the sun's heat lead to a warm breeze that would pass every so often, and my dad, sister, and I were riding a human-sized skipping stone on the waters of the lake. This joy would last only so long.
The once clear skies of noon were tranforming into the skies, patched with clouds, of late afternoon. Our boat was now shaking to the waves near Chicago. I was tired and beat. We had been out all day in the sun, wandering free on the lake. My once sun-kissed skin was now an angry pink, and I wanted to go home. After passing the city, my dad finally gave into my plea's to go home. I was happy and ready when he turned on the motor to start heading back, until I looked up and saw that wave.
My father reved-up the engine and we started smacking into the waves. Splash! The first one had hit and as I was rubbing the lake water out of my eyes, our boat was running down one wave to slap another one. Countless times did this same pattern repeat. All of a sudden, it stopped. In an instant we went from Posiden's rage to calm flat waters. I had a hard time beileving it, but I did not ponder to far into in for my clothes were soaked and I had to get my towel from the front of the boat. After a few minutes in the peaking sun, I was slightly dried-up, and I had returned to my seat. It was leaning towards four o'clock now as my dad reved the boat up again.
Of course, we had to once again have a meeting with violent waves, but this time my father was not going to slow down his boat for their pace. No, he was going to keep a fast speed so our boat was now jumping onto the top of wave after wave. I was now holding on to dear life and traveling to my "happy place" to keep my thoughts away from the fears of letting go and being sliced up by the propellers at the back of the boat. Wave after wave after wave, my body was hitting the boat in time with the rhythmatic thud of the sharp waves clawing at the belly of the boat. This would have to be the worst part, right? Guess again.
The tempo of the thuds began to slow. The engine began to cough, and before we had enough time to respond, it had croaked. There we were, a small white speck against the immense blue lake with waves splashing every side leading to water leaks. The worst part would have to be no life jackets, no working radio callers, no little white specks near by, and no idea where we were on Lake Michigan. Our only hope? A cell phone with one bar.
