Reconnecting with my wavy past

Waved off
Grand Bend, ON
July 2012
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I had a weird ritual when I was a lifeguard. At the end of the day, as we cleared the pool and sent everyone on their merry way, I liked to watch the waves in the pool slowly subside until the surface returned to an almost-flat calmness. It was never perfectly still thanks to wind and filter action, but it was enough to reinforce that the day's swimming was done, that peace had once again returned to a usually noisy place.

Of course, the next morning, we'd open up and some kid (always a kid) would inevitably dive in and turn the glassy surface back into frenetic, molecular chaos.

Great Lakes - this one's Huron - don't subscribe to the same notions as swimming pools nestled behind local community centres. There are always waves here no matter how few swimmers are in the water (I blame the ducks, but that's a story for another day.) That doesn't mean I still don't stand off to the side and watch the inevitable, never-ending ebb and flow. It's strangely calming, and the textures in this deliberately underexposed shot serve as a reminder that personal touchstones exist everywhere, even hundreds of kilometers and decades apart from where the memories were first formed.

Your turn: a long-ago memory involving water. Please discuss.