The aluminum skin of our little boat is leeching the coolness of the lake water into my back and into the soles of my feet. It feels good. I look up and can make out, at the edge of my vision, my mom, my sister and my brother. But mostly I see sky. End-of-the-day sky. Not much blue remains. It holds no clouds. No early evening stars. No moon. It is full of nothing, nothing to hold my gaze, yet hold it does. My eight-year-old mind doesn’t wonder how or why. I just stare.