it’s my favorite picture of my Dad and me. The sky is overcast, a blank slate against the sharply flat horizon. We look out past the ripples towards an unknown destination. We have no GPS, no markers, just quiet ripples and the suggestion of ‘just past the red cabin 10 oclock from the…’, well who knows, who remembers, but there were specifics in those directions. If followed correctly they would bring you right to the weeds, the drop off, the fish. Dad and I are bent, peering towards an exact destination but I can imagine our eyes were honed into exactly different spots. There we were, that moment of Dad sharing his knowledge as he often would. Of a thing, a person, a place, the past. We would all lean in just a little closer to catch our understanding when he spoke as if that space we leaned into held more for us. Or maybe it was just to demonstrate our attention, to honor. I look at this picture and imagine endless analogies to life but one stands out. Dad. Positioning us, his girls, in his boat while offering his last guided words, knowing that reaching our destination held some degree of luck, experience, and gut. Dad. Pushing us off the dock with resolve. Go out there, find it, experience it, enjoy it. I trust you with my boat. And when you return, empty handed or holding success, I will welcome you in with a hand outstretched to slowly pull you in, to steady you and guard you against the waves with that unassuming question, ‘any bites?’ No matter the catch the next opportunity was offered out, ‘well they may be biting after the rain’. Dad, there’s been rain, and quite a bit of overcast but the confidence you hold in me, the unwavering presence you offer, has always given me direction against this wide open horizon.