Photograph – William Plante

She taught me to dance on Saturday nights, tweaked my desire for adventure. We paddled a canoe down this stream in pitch dark, white-water sparkling in starlight, guided us. Our trip to the moon was a gas station by a bridge with a pop machine and a bench. She talked for hours about every facet of life. Each concept began with, “The way I figure it.” Ending, “What do you think?” forcing me to communicate. That night, by a gas pump, I learned ‘girls are to be admired.’