What makes you feel alive? Hebron Writing Contest essay
High above the trees is a bright blue sky extending far into the universe. The air is warm and fresh, in every direction is an upward slope covered in thick forests. This body of water is what appears to be the only clearing in this vast woods. Each wave rolls across the surface with white bubbles dancing on top. The leaves whirl vigorously clinging to the tree branches. The rigging rattles as it clangs against the mast and colorful boats rock back and forth, yanking on their moorings. In my life jacket that used to be neon yellow, but is now so faded it is almost white, with my dark curls blowing, and my bare feet, I am sitting on the edge of Geronimo adjusting the sails to harness the wind; in one hand is the tiller and in the other is the main sheet. Sitting beside me is Kate, in her, still neon, yellow life jacket, Ray-Ban sunglasses she stole from the lost and found, and her straight blond hair flying free, because her lucky hair tie sank. The water is splashing up and cooling the sun-cooked fiberglass that is burning our butts. The sun is baking our already pink faces. We arch our backs backwards so that we can dunk our heads into the cool water, but the forward movement floods water up our noses and into our ears; nevertheless, our mops of hair are now dripping cool water down our backs and faces. Comfortable and ready we trim in the sheets and point down wind just enough to pick up speed.
My hands are red and blistered from the lines I’m gripping. “Let it out just a little,” I tell Kate. As she eases the jib sheet, our sails transform into wings and we take off with power. The water starts splashing up, each wave seems to crash right into the boat as we plow through it, Geronimo is slowly becoming a shallow tub. The tiller begins to resist more and more. Suddenly our bow becomes a knife and starts slicing through the waves.
We emerge flying, skimming the surface of the water with more speed than you can imagine, water spraying up from both sides of the boat. I feel out of control. Trailing us is a wake you’d think would come from a ninety horsepower engine. Together, Kate and I laugh from pure joy until our bellies hurt. In the distance a loon laughs at us and then dives under quickly to avoid the missile, that is us, coming at it. “Hold on!” I yell, as Kate loses her balance because she was holding the jib sheets with her toes; an obviously pour choice. My arm instinctively flies out to catch her. Laughing, song lyrics from Hannah Montana start flowing out. Then the song switches to “How far I’ll go” from Moana, and then to the chorus of “West Virginia”. Soaking wet, with my curls dancing in all directions and her golden mane still flying in the wind, thirsty and sun baked, we sail as the wind relentlessly blows.
Every part of my body from the inside out is happy. All I hear is the whistling wind and the laughter. The water sparkles as if it were covered in tiny gems. The sky is so bright it hurts my eyes to look, and my skin is warm, absorbing as much of the moment as it can hold. Nothing else matters, the only things on my mind are the sun, wind and water.
Under the vast blue sky, encircled by the forests and mountains of Maine, on a small lake, in this sailboat, I feel like a tiny spec in this huge world surrounding me. But, on this sailboat, beside Kate, under the warm sun and bright sky, soaring over the lake through a tunnel of mist, without an ounce of stress or worry, full to the brim with happiness, and feeling love, I feel alive!