On another of our trips to a Camping Location in Northern California...

One evening at Dinner, after a day when we'd been in the water so long that we had Wrinkly, "Prune Fingers"...Gwen asked me a question.  "Uncle Chris?  After Dinner, would you like to go swimming again?"  I looked at her excited face, and said, "Heck, yeah...as long as it isn't too dark to see outside."  I got a few looks that suggested that I didn't need to do that, that we'd been in the water long enough already.  But how could I say No?  That's what Uncles are for!

We left soon after, risking the age-old wisdom of Not Swimming After Eating, and arrived at the lake as the Sun was setting. 

Standing on the edge of the dock...the air was still and the sky was Purple-Blue as the Stars came into view...fish were rising to the surface for small bugs, leaving small circles at the top...and bats were flying quickly over the surface, scooping up bugs...while frogs croaked their gossip over the water's surface, not knowing who was talking and who was listening.

We dipped our toes in the cool water, and Gwen said, "Ooh...I think we'd better jump in!"  We backed up on the dock for some running room...and then launched, full-tilt, hitting the water in splayed-out-style...a large wave spreading across the lake, causing birds to take flight and the frogs went silent. 

It was a shock, but we quickly adjusted to the water temperature, and spent the next half hour or so, jumping off the rocks into the water below...pillaging the serenity of the tranquil setting with our: Laughs, Cannon Balls, Can-Openers, and Preacher Seat water entries...all carefully selected for Maximum Splash Effect...until it was too dark to see the water's surface from the rocks above, much less the path up the rocks to go again...so we called it a night.

On our swim back to the dock in the darkness, we paused to look at the Stars in the Sky while treading water...and then we decided to try and float on our backs, looking up into the Milky Way...unimaginably vivid due to our remote location and virtually no moonlight, or light pollution from nearby towns...with thousands upon thousands of stars on display.

We held hands and couldn't hear a thing with our ears underwater...staring up at the depths of the Milky Way...and I recall thinking, "I wonder what else is out there, that we just have no idea about because we can't see it?" 

And, "Why the heck haven't I been Night Swimming more often?!?!" 

But we soon got cold from just floating, and the moon was coming up, so we swam back to shore.

Once there, we both wrapped up in a super-large towel together, hugging each other to warm up and just...because.  Gwen said, "Thank you, Chris...that was SO MUCH FUN!"  I hugged her more tightly and said, "Thank You, Gwen!  I think you're a FISH, just like Me."

Now...whenever I hear the song "Night Swimming" by R.E.M., or when looking up into a Star-Filled, Night Sky...I always think of Night Swimming with "Gwen the Fish."

They called her "Gwendolynn Denise" to summon her onto the stage, and her face was just like "You know what man--I don't know about that man."

We spent the Christmas of 2016 in Green Valley, Arizona with Grandma Lynn and Grandpa George.  As a surprise for Gwen, dad had asked them to rent an electronic piano to have at their house when we arrived.  They sweetly obliged.  Gwen's face when she walked in the door was absolutely radiant!  For the week that we were there, when she wasn't baking in the kitchen with Grandma and mom or antagonizing the players of a Catan game, she was on that piano.  Gwen was often self concious, even around people that knew her well, but the music seemed to transform her.  Her voice carried throughout the house, clear and lovely, occasionally joined by the shrieks of roughhousing cousins/siblings, the barking of dogs, and the yodeling of Grandpa George.