This weekend, my mom and I went boating with some family friends. We spent about five hours tracing different inlets and channels of southeast Lake Superior, all while straddling the American-Canadian border. We stopped and ate lunch on a small, wild island surrounded by a half-mile band of knee-deep water. We watched deer run along the water. And we chased a few hundreds-of-feet-long freighters headed for the St. Lawrence Seaway, dancing around their massive, swirling, dangerously powerful wakes.
It made me feel very small, in the very best way.