A View From the Lake

This morning is glorious like every other one at the lake. The view from up here is just amazing. Floating on the air above the little boat that thinks it can. The bright orange and yellow of my parasail cuts through the blue sky like a warm knife through butter.

I am flying so high yet everything is so clear. I can see Main Street in the village and all the way to the very popular public beach at the south end of the lake. Children playing in the sand as parents look on and continue their wearying conversations. Not until everyone has had one more drink and is snoozing in their beach chairs, do I see the impending storm.

Lightning can be seen in the distance and the sound of nearby thunder rattles my parasail. I look to the boat to see if they are pulling me in, but there is no one on the boat any longer. I am simply floating on the wind, completely untethered. Panic begins to set in as another roll of thunder storms through my brain.

How do I get down from here? Am I going to wait until the winds die down and I simply float into the cool water of the lake. The lightning appears to be getting closer very quickly. The sound of the thunder and the flash of light are almost in complete concurrence.

Looking below for help of any kind, I see that the village has cleared out as people run for their cars or shelter under an awning. The store owners are all out on Main Street staring at the darkening sky, when suddenly, one of them points toward the sky.

Now, it looks like I have caused complete chaos in the village as they frantically look around for help. Has this never happened before in all the years of parasailing on the lake? Why is there such panic? I don’t appear to be in any immediate danger but I need to descend before this storm falls upon me. The last thing I need is to be struck by lightning.

When I believe help is headed my way, I look closer at the hotel where I am lodged. There are police cars and an ambulance, lights flashing much like the flash of the lightning getting ever closer. I can see my brother sitting on the curb with his head in his hands. I am close to touch down in the lake about ¼ mile from my hotel. The men in the boat still have not reappeared and now I notice the boat has gone too. The storm fully impacts the lake just as I set in the water just beyond Tea Island. A strong swimmer, I can swim from here to O’Sullivans on the Lake with very little effort.

Arriving at O’Sullivan’s, I can see the other guests standing around carrying on hushed conversations. As I approach my brother, I can overhear his conversation.

“So, was it very quick?” he asks, his voice quivering as he speaks.

“Oh yes, Ken, she was gone the minute the lightning hit her.”

My brother nods his head in sorrow and thanks the police for their help.

“I will call her kids as soon as I can compose myself.”

“You let us know if there is anything we can do for you,” the officer says as he heads for his patrol car.

All the flashing lights disappear and I wait for Ken to focus.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

My sister-in-law hugs Ken. “I can’t believe this is how it ends.”

At that exact moment, I realize I’m not really here. I was struck by lightning and fell 480 feet to the lake, dead upon impact.