Determinant

Crew Practice , Lake Howell , Florida

6 C r e W P r a C t i C e , L a K e H o W e L L , F L o r i D a —Columbia space shuttle disaster, February 1, 2003 We knew how sky met our lake at dawn, how water breathed mist. We knew rain churned the water up, made waves high enough to swamp us, bucketing over our gunwales, our oars too wet to hold. We knew the sky in summer—so blue it melted, sticking to our skin. We knew every sky but this: unearthly, almost green, light billowing fast under the clouds. Someone said, Tornado sky. i brought us in early, eyed the brush on shore that shadows had turned to animals: a hunched turtle, a donkey with ears that forked like antlers. We didn’t know yet that the shuttle was gone. i’d watched it launch a dozen times, raced to the street to feel its entry crack in my belly, followed the smear of light and smoke that stayed in the sky for hours. i didn’t know it hadn’t made it home. at the dock, i knifed our boat so close its rigger bolts cut four straight grooves into the wood. an oar broke from its oarlock, clattered on the planks. a mother stood on the dock in tears, her son still rowing against the wind. i felt her fear then— 7 her child in the center of the lake, too far for her to reach, one body in the single-file line that moved away and then farther. ...