Reflection in the water

As I lay the dock the sky is free of clouds and pollution as if it were a blue sheet covering the sky.Sun shining on the tips of the mountains as it sets.Pine trees and fields cover the mountains that surround me.
I put my hand down on the mirror like surface and feel the warmth.Hearing a fish jump I look to see the tiny waves of water working there way outward in perfect circles.The dampness is like a swamp cooler blasting in the middle of summer, occasionally interrupted by the smell of fires from the people that come to camp here in the summer.
I remember waking up early to go fishing with my dad in our rickety old boat that reeked of dead fish.I remember walking along the razor like jagged rocks with my brother; my dogs would shake water on us after their swim.I can still see the reflection of the beautifully colored fireworks, during Little Valley Days.
The strong gas-burning aroma from the exhaust of the boat reminds me of endless days spent wakeboarding.The throbbing pain of headaches from wiping out was only intensified by the music piercing my ears; it would blast from the boat speakers as if there were a concert going on right behind me. I remember the warm sun beating down on my body as I lay on the back of the boat, as it is now as I lay on the dock.Tiny droplets of salt water running down my side, making me stick to the warn cracked vinyl that covered the boat seats.
The lake to me is like a big brother; it will always be there.Sun setting to the west, orange, yellow, pink, and red reflect in the water, as do I.I don't know where or what heaven is but I know that I live near a piece of it.