Mist and sun rising over a calm North Carolina lake, four semi-groggy participants pushed off towards the dawn. Balancing on a hull slimmer than the span between Shaq’s big toe and heel, we began.
Hands. Oars. Water. Legs, arms, back, slide. Hands. Oars. Water. Legs, arms, back, slide.
Gliding over the cool liquid, wildlife looking down at us from above and up at us from below, we rowed. No finish line ahead, but something as sweet: the spot where four became one, where our collective efforts forged an experience out of not-so-thin southern air more charged than anything we could shape on our own.
We were united, we weren't the same. United allows for differences: of opinion, culture, skin color, sexual orientation, belief sets. Differences are normal, squabbles beneficial: the Rockies inspire awe thanks to some no-nonsense tectonic-plate head butting.
It's good to remember each day that we are always united: one human family, one blue planet, one home.