I don’t like water, but I like the pale reflection of the sun stippled over the waves in the haze of evening. Bushy trees on land stand out starkly against the water that mirrors the sky.
I like the v-shaped trail of foam jetting out behind the boat. Between us and the long stretch of emerald shore in the distance, a sailboat floats with its tall sail unfurled in the mist.
I like my feet pounding in rhythmic steps on the dock with a tangle of lily pads spread across the surface of the water below. As I push open the gate at the end of the dock, waterbugs or tiny frogs, startled by the creak that disrupts the stillness of the marshy inlet, spring into the water with two little plops.