It’s a lifestyle, but they are God’s. I am God’s and this is just as much mine.
I was at my spot, well, close enough because there were some people at my spot. Well, not my spot, but where I wanted to start swimming from. Four people, a paddle boat, and a pit bull. Drinking cheap beer, and yelling “she’s going pee” just for the heck of it.
I get in and get my hair wet and slick it back so it doesn’t get pulled. I grab my mask off my flippers and coat the inside to prevent fogging. I rinse them and put them over my face and place the snorkel in my mouth. Blow twice quickly to clear the water it in and I dive in. It is boring here with no one else around, and way too many cans on the bottom.
I was disgusted. If Heather was here, she would have put them in her backpack. If Brenda was here, she would have put them in her garbage bag. Brenda is an awesome person, every time I see her at the lake, she is hunting for cans. I don’t know what personally motivates her, but here is a list of possibles:
- Money. Cans are worth money. Who wouldn’t pick up a nickle?
- Cleans. Cans are everywhere on the ground.
- Keeps you busy. Some people like doing things more than sitting.
- Keeps you outside. Where it is lovely.
- All of the above.
Why didn’t I pick up the cans? I don’t know. Sure, I could say “I didn’t have a bag” or “I won’t recycle them for a long time,” it doesn’t matter. I still didn’t pick them up. They are still there, 10 feet down, fading into a white speck that everyone asks you “What is that? Is that something cool?”
No, it is just a empty can. An empty can once filled with cheap beer. That I left there.