The Kayak

He inhaled. The cold morning air burned as it filled his lungs. He held it there for a moment. He liked it. It made him feel alive and vibrant. The early rays of dawn were just breaking over the horizon, and a welcoming warmth from the sun washed over him in an attempt to sate the chill in his bones. He stared out across the river to the still trees with a stoic gaze and decided it was time. He kept his balance as he lowered himself down into his vessel. His fingers wrapped around the cold steel of the paddle and with a gentle push, he was free...The current instantly took hold of the kayak, but practiced strokes righted his ship. An exhilarated calm came over him. The disconnected freedom he felt in the water was unparalleled. It was like he was no longer weighted down, and he became part of something immense and alive. He reached out his hand and let his fingers skim the surface of the water. It was cold, forty degrees perhaps, and icy to the touch. He smiled. He began to paddle again, not knowing his destination. That thought was secondary. Today he was letting go, letting the water move him, and leaving everything behind in his wake.