Photo Credit: © Can Stock Photo Inc. / Matemir
As my dad walked me down to the river, the morning sun peeked over his shoulder and flickered through the trees. I was about 5 years old. Mom was waiting at the water’s edge, holding a small raft made of pieces of wood that had been lashed together. They embraced me, placed me on the raft, and handed me a paddle, just the right size for my age and strength. I set off, and when I looked back, they were still there, waving. When I turned back again, they were gone. There was never a specific incident I can point to that prepared me to navigate life, but I knew I had the strength of my parent’s love.
The Guppy Pond
As the days passed, I felt even more confident as my skills increased. When I glanced at the shore, Dad was there, arms folded across his chest, nodding, indicating my progress was good and my path was true.
Veering Off Course
However, when I was sailing at night, the way was not so clear. My skills were continuously being challenged. There were other boats in the water now alongside mine, and my peers were not faring so well. Some tried to take on waves that could not be scaled or at speeds that could not be sustained. Some simply pulled onto shore. Their parents were helping them onto dry land, wrapping an understanding arm around their shoulders. I righted my craft and kept steering steadily ahead. Looking up, I noticed a sail had been added and the deck of the raft was fortified and sealed. On shore, my teachers and coaches waved, but implored me to pay attention to my route.
