Dalia and the Quiet Lake
1Dalia had been waiting all summer for this canoe trip with her grandfather. She packed her binoculars the night before and checked them three times. Before the sun was fully up, she was already sitting in the front of the canoe, tapping her paddle against the side. "Can we go now, Grandpa Lou?" she asked. "The loons might leave!"
2Grandpa Lou smiled and pushed the canoe away from the dock. Mist floated above the water like steam over a cup of cocoa. The lake was so still that the pine trees on the shore seemed to stand on their own reflections. Dalia paddled hard and fast, and cold water splashed onto her knees. "Slow strokes," Grandpa whispered. "Loons don't like noise."
3For a long time, they saw nothing but a dragonfly and a floating log. Dalia's arms ached, and she began to wonder. What if the loons were on the other side of the lake? What if they had come too late? She wanted to paddle across, but she looked at Grandpa's calm face and made herself rest her paddle on her lap instead.
4Then a long, wavering call drifted across the water. It sounded like someone laughing and crying at the same time. Dalia's heart thumped. Not far away, a black-and-white bird glided out from behind the reeds. A fuzzy dark chick rode on its back. Dalia held her breath and did not move a single finger. She did not even lift her binoculars, because she was afraid the clink would scare the birds away.
5Later, as they paddled home, Dalia stayed so quiet that Grandpa Lou raised his eyebrows. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked. Dalia grinned. "I'm practicing," she said. "Next time, I want the loons to think I'm just another log."