I believe in waterskiing.
I cannot think of a time more perfect than that when I am waterskiing. I can remember the exact moment when I first rose out from under the water on top of the lake. I had been trying relentlessly for two straight days to try and get up on the water skis. The informative video that came with the skis had been watched at least five times, and my dad’s back hurt from continually pulling me across the floor while I tightly held onto the ski rope, as to simulate the skiing motion.
The day was perfect. There was not a single cloud in the sky, or a wave on the lake. I was absolutely determined to water ski. Although this may seem to have been an ambitious goal for a six year old, it was in my blood. Both of my parents had spent countless summer day’s waterskiing, and it was my turn.
Once I finally emerged from the water, it seemed as if I was literally untouchable. Nothing could hurt me, because I was standing on top of the water. A feeling of complete euphoria overtook my body. At that time, I did not realize that I was not standing on top of the water, but instead my body was compressed into a tiny ball barely holding on to the rope. It did not matter, because I was waterskiing.
Since that day, I have spent countless summer day’s waterskiing. I have advanced since my days of barely being able to hold onto the rope, but the feeling is still the same every single time I emerge from the water.
I have yet to encounter another activity that gives me the same rush as waterskiing does, but I do not need to find anything that does. I only need my memories of waterskiing to hold me until the next perfect summer day when I can return to my skis.
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