It’s early June, two weeks until the summer equinox, so the sky is still bright and warm, just like the shallow river water. I don’t know why I’m so attracted to the outdoors right now. Maybe because it reminds me of when I was younger, and spent more time with my family in the summer, before baseball got so intense. Being outside makes me think, but it also helps me forget. It tricks me, with its colors and textures and sounds, into forgetting everything that I’m missing. When I’m anywhere else, every second is filled with the glaring reality of what is different. The assignment board that hangs in the shed is blurry. I circle every boat twice to double-check the number before jotting it down on my clipboard. I don’t trust myself, don’t trust what I’m seeing. What I’m not seeing. Everything is softer than it used to be, and not in a good way.

You should get your glasses. That’s what some kid’s mom said to me when I was filling out their paperwork, my face crowding the clipboard more than I had realized. I don’t have glasses, I told her. She glared at me but didn’t say anything. I don’t know why I bothered; I’ll never see her again. There’s no need to impress her with my visual acuity, or shame her with a pity party over being seventeen with the vision of her kid’s grandpa. Just shut it, lady. That’s what I wanted to say. But it’s my last day with the stupid little bandage by my eye, and my bruises are yellowing, and I’m so close to having my parents off my ass about everything.

I slice my paddle through the water, a mist of cool droplets spraying my hand. The river current isn’t strong—that’s why it’s perfect for families and first-time paddlers who aren’t paying attention—but it’s enough to move me along. And this late I don’t have to worry about traversing through red inner tubes and floating coolers. I rest the paddle across my lap and let the water push me. I close my left eye, letting everything go out of focus. I see three strips—the brown of the dunes, the darkness of the water, and the green of the trees on the right bank. I keep floating along. Is this what it will be like someday? I close my eyes. I don’t think I believe in the whole “senses coming alive” thing, but I still can’t help but wonder if there’s something to it.