Setting the world ablaze
On Saturday morning, I got off work at my group home job and took a different route home. Instead of taking the direct highway, the road took me past a beautiful little lake. I've lived in this area for 20 years, and I've known where this place was, but I've never been there before.

It was 8:12 AM, and the sun was shining, the temp about 70 degrees, and I was sitting at a public access lot off the shore of a wonderful lake. Suzanne Vega was singing about heartache on KVSC, and a retired couple were playing with their golden retriever. He was a big dog, mature with a slightly gray muzzle and thick, muscular legs. He was almost shaking with excitement, waiting for action.

The woman would throw a ball into the water, and the dog would bound in, swim after it and wait for her signal to bring it back to shore. Her husband stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders. I could tell that they were a little cold in the morning air, and the dog kept coming up on the beach and soaking them with sprays of water as he shook out his coat.

I watched this first from my car, then on the shore, and then on a dock that stretched out thirty feet into the lake. I think this was about the most peaceful quarter hour I've spent in a long, long time.

I had two thoughts:

1. This was about as perfect as a moment gets for me. The one thing I missed was that my wife wasn't with me.

2. Wowzers, I'm boring and old.