SEARCHING

FOR PERFECT

When I was a kid, Dad and I searched the lake shores, looking for skipping rocks:  flat, smooth, not too big, color doesn't matter.  

Even with the best rock, skipping it across the water takes practice: squat down close to the water, position the rock with the flat side parallel to the lake surface, then thrust it across the water with your index finger.

Many of my rocks didn't skip at all; they sank to the lake bottom, with no apology for poor performance. If I was lucky, my rock skipped twice. Dad could skip a rock six or eight times. 

As I prepare for a month-long trip, I think about the rocks.  Like finding the perfect skipping stone, I want everything to be perfect -- the sights, the experiences, the people, the food, the weather. 

But I know it can't be.  Some things will be awesome, others will be duds -- sinking like rocks not destined for skipping.

But like Dad, I will search for another stone, do my best to position it correctly, and then send it across the water, hoping for at least two skips.

I leave in the morning, heading north on a new venture.