My father and I didn’t talk very much but we communicated beautifully. Without a word, sometimes he would motion for me to come to him. Together we would go to a place he found that was special. A bird’s nest, a spider web, an insect or nesting site for some small creature. We would quietly watch and I would learn. Sometimes a word was never exchanged. That was “dad”. This scene along Lake Sammamish Trail reminded me of my dad. I felt him near me and guessed that he would want me to see how the waters surface does little to reveal its depth. I love the light that does its carefree dance, reflecting in all directions. Water, like us, can be pretty deep. What people mostly see, however, is the dance we do.