Twelve mile island, part 1

Did you read about the flood? It happened a long time ago, in a little country town, in Tupelo Mississippi. It rained and it rained, it rained both night and day

It was five o'clock in the morning after a warm, unproductive summer night in Prospect, Kentucky. At the humble age of 14, I expected no less.
The usually placid river had taken on a steady, rapid flow toward the middle of downtown Louisville as a result of flooding.

The people got worried, didn't have no place to go. Had no one to turn to Lord but you

Detritus had washed up toward the back of our house...

"Save me lord, save me. Save me from the mighty flood"

...Angry fear littered my mind with thoughts of doubt...

There was women, and there was children, screamin' and cryin'. Lord, they had no one to turn to but you. Little country town: Tupelo, Mississippi.

...and soon enough I was on my way upriver toward Twelve mile island, via kayak.

An orange in one hand, rope in the other, I quietly carried my kayak down toward the river. Stepped in. Began to push off, and hesitated. "Do I wanna do this?" I thought.

"Nope."

A few minutes after that, my kayak and I were both engulfed in the morning fog, floating downriver. A few seconds after that, I pushed and pulled the oars. The water in front of me started to part. Rippled waves broke the water's peace and before I knew it I was safe and out of view of my house. The current was strong and steady, unlike any conditions I'd kayaked in before. Previous thoughts rephrased themselves into doubts, and I began to wonder whether or not I could kayak the distance. I hadn't eaten for hours, was tired, cold, and fatigued.
My body continued to tell me to turn around, or better yet float back down towards home, towards my warm bed, and call it a night, but I was finished calling it a night. I had lost myself over the progress of summer, had lost control, and needed to gain it back. I wasn't about to back out of the challenge.
I continued to kayak, now picking up speed. The faster and faster I rowed, the better I felt. The further I pushed the further away from my current life of confusion and fear I became. Likewise, the harder I tried, the harder it was to go on. A good 20 minutes into it, I still hadn't passed the neighborhood. I wanted to go home.
Again, I pushed the oar to my left, pulled at my right.

"This isn't gonna solve anything!" I reasoned. "Turn around!"

Once again, I rowed.

"Now it's just cheesy."

I stopped and took a big breath of humid air. The sky had brightened. 6 o'clock was near.

I had come to hate this time of day. This was the time of day to sleep. Instead, I was being forced to wake up for school 5/6 of the year. Every chance I got I'd avoid having to witness the sun's arrival to our side of the world. Plainly put, I was a creature of the night. Dad hated this, arguing that I needed to learn some responsibility and start waking up at a reasonable hour (about 6 am). Even to this day, he'd stand toward what he's said as a verity, to which I'd respond, "What exactly makes me a responsible human being by waking up when there is absolutely no reason for me to?"

Again I rowed. Again I pushed. I wanted this strange anger out. And instead of retreating to bed, I'd push my way towards a truth that didn't exist; Mabye because I wouldn't let it, or mabye because I wasn't capable of understanding that truth. Even then I chalked it up into believing that all I was doing was rowing for a false sense of security--a moment where I could stand on the island, far from home, and isolate myself from the world for a second, and think "Everything's gonna be ok."
Either way, I had to at least try.
I pushed it into gear and began to row faster.
Then faster.
And faster.
And faster.

I could feel alittle bit of a breeze cross my face and slither inbetween the spaces of my lifejacket. My skin tightened. I had goosebumps all over. To urge on, I thought, "I have an orange, so it's not like I don't have anything to eat if I get hungry or thirsty." The thought provoked a slight feeling of fulfillment being put into practice, from that moment on until my false sense of security withered away, probably sometime later in the day after I get back, I thought.
Finally, I had passed the neighborhood. And although the previous inkling of hope had empowered me with a new energy to push on, the fact that I had just passed the neighborhood lowered my eyes.
I kept my speed for another twenty minutes before I stopped again. When I did, I was proud to realize that I had gone further than expected. Within that amount of time, I had gained about 3/5 of the distance. The sun soon began to peak up through the hills of trees over to my right--Kentucky. To my left was Indiana. There I saw a mountain I had once made a foolish attempt to climb out of boredom. Lucky me, I fell down within 7 feet, suffering only minor injuries such as a bloody elbow and hurt wrist, but have sustained longterm stupidity unfortunetly.

Suddenly, I found myself dumbfounded. Was it the fall? Was this just the way the sun rised? Right before my eyes, the sun began to rise at a speed that, at first, scared me. In only seconds it was high above the trees. In only seconds the river lit up. In only seconds the sky was bright blue, the way the sky looked around noon.

Suddenly, in only seconds, I had floated back to the end of the neighborhood.