“Is the water clear? It looks so blue.” Â “Yes, it’s very clear — it’s amazing.”
How surreal it must be to stand along the shores, where the mountains are covered with tan before a line of forest green trees touch the sky. “It’s dead grass,” he tells me about the “tan” over the phone when I tell him how beautiful it is.
Old enough, and talented enough to complete. Barely alive long enough to know how fleeting this moment Â is — the once-in-a-lifetime chance it just may be. Yet, this is probably the story they will mention, some night, at a campfire, years from now — if it happens to come up.
But maybe they know now. After listening to the graduation speeches last Sunday that reverberated the one single message: Your problems won’t end by the end of the next class period. (Did they ever?)
These amazing boys, on a scholastic crew team, competing in the national championship against the “club teams.” Â This means, he tells me, that all the other rowing teams were created by picking the best of the best rowers from across the city to create a club. Their team, our team, is just a simple school team, competing in US Rowing Youth National Championship RegattaÂ atÂ
His is a two-man boat, a pair. No coaxin to help cheer them on, steer and guide them. On Friday and Saturday, they competed in the trials. Their competitors are 6 foot 6, he tells me — the biggest of the best.Â
The big news of the day — of time — they qualified — and are moving onto the finals tomorrow morning.
These pictures, sent to me by another mom there, standing on the shores, look so Nancy-Drew-vintage to me. It’s definitely a place I would have loved to see. I wish I was there. I should have dropped everything, forgot about the cost and just went.