Ripples of Childhood
A white ship sits on reflective water. Its hull a painted white, it's funnels a bright red. Two blue lines go all the way around the hull, its deck green, cabins light blue.
It chugs slowly over the crystal water, clouds reflected in the mirror. A small trail left behind it, cleaving through the water.
Steam billows from its funnels, the thick white cotton candy air combining slowly with the clouds in the mirror.
The mirror trembles.
A singular smooth wave ripples across the water speeding straight towards the boat.
The boat turns, facing away from the wave. It powers ahead, the sound of the engine growing louder, bubbles forming behind it in its cleave.
The wave hits.
The boat rises with the wave, slowly, as if going over a car hump backwards, then descends.
It bobs gently.
Then continues, chugging along.
Zoom out, looking over the clear reservoir. The unbroken water reflects the sky.
The child smiles as the boat survives, clapping wildly. The dad sits by the water's edge, smiling, remote in hand.
Until his daughter tries to make another massive wave.