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loud,” I said. “I can’t believe they call this a creek.”
    “Loud but peaceful,” Will said.
    Mickie turned to us, smiling. The spot she’d picked had a great view up the creek, where the water coursed white and foaming through boulders. The view downstream was blocked by a “snag,” the term Mickie used to describe the fallen tree trunks piled atop one another along the creek. The snag backed the water up, creating a pool maybe six feet deep.
    The creek-bottom was filled with varying sizes of rounded granite river-rock, uniformly speckled with black. Instead of ordinary whitish granite, I could make out a dozen different shades: ivory, gold, pinky-yellows, pale oranges, tans. The multi-colored rock tinged the water so that it appeared rosy-golden as it rushed downstream.
    Mom would have known how to paint those colors.
    Mickie had been quietly emptying her pack and now passed a sandwich to me. From my
    pack, I grabbed potato chips and drinks to share.
    Half an hour later, sated and tired, the three of us collapsed: me onto gravel, Mickie against a boulder, and Will against a fallen trunk. I lay on my belly, warm and drowsy from food and the rushing noise of the creek.
    After a few minutes sitting in silence, Mickie stood. “I need to take care of something
    ‘one-hundred yards or more away from a fresh-water source.’”
    I guffawed. Mick had a way with words. The day was turning out better than I’d
    expected. I felt so relaxed I didn’t even jump into twenty-question-mode once she was out of earshot.
    Beside me, Will searched through a group of smaller rocks and pebbles. “Sorry about the change in plans,” he said.
    “It’s okay. I’m having a great day. I like your sister’s sense of humor.”
    “Sense of humor? She doesn’t have one. But she’s plenty funny.”
    I laughed at his assessment. “What are you looking for?”

    “Skipping stones,” he replied. He continued moving the rocks back and forth, removing one every so often and setting it aside in a growing pile.
    “Look at this,” he said, passing me a spherical piece of granite the size of a ping-pong ball.
    “It’s perfect,” I said. The black speckles caught the sunlight and glistened as I turned it over.
    “Keep it,” said Will.
    “You want to think twice giving a girl a big sparkly rock.”
    Will grunted, a small laugh.
    I leaned out towards the creek and dipped the tiny globe to see what it would look like.
    Wet, the black spots leapt out in sharp contrast to the creamy background. I turned it to reveal splotches of pale gold. I set it in front of me in the pea-gravel to dry and gazed contentedly at the colorful rocks beneath the slick-smooth surface of the water. Sunlight splattered through tree limbs high overhead, dotting the creek with bright splotches as it flowed inexorably to the falls. I’d never seen anything so lovely, so hypnotic.
    Will set another round rock beside my first one. I smiled, but didn’t reach out for it. I speculated idly what it would look like in the water, but really, I was too comfortable to bother checking.
    Mickie returned and said, in an upward inflection, “Sam’s turn?”
    My turn for what? I wondered.
    “She better have a good sense of direction,” Mickie muttered.
    It should’ve annoyed me that she spoke about me like I wasn’t there, but I felt so
    perfectly content that I just ignored her. Will frowned my direction, his index finger gliding to his lips as if to confirm I should disregard his sister. Fine by me, I thought.
    “Sam’s good,” Will said. He set another rock by my first two.
    I smiled at him and then turned my gaze to the new stone. It was pinker than the others. It would look beautiful if it got wet. I reached for the stone. My hand didn’t seem to follow my volition, though. Odd , I thought, bending my gaze towards my arm.
    Then several things happened at almost the same moment. I realized I couldn’t see my arm. Will reached out as if to touch me and out of