Summer was only a few weeks old and Beltzville Lake’s beach wasn’t yet closed because of bacteria in the water.

I sat in my beach chair, a Sports Illustrated magazine glued to my legs, thanks to a combination of sweat and sunscreen. Two friends laid belly-down stretched out on their beach towels. Pandora’s Summer Hits of the 90's station was flowing through the bluetooth speaker on the edge of one of their towels.

Halfway through “Under the Bridge,” the friend closest to me, Stacey, suggested a walk down to the water. I peeled California Chrome’s feature story off of my legs and agreed to take a stroll to the shores of Beltzville Lake. My other friend, Jenny, remained sedintary on her towel.

We were all at different paths, my friends and I. I had just started my first freelance gig with my local newspaper. Stacey was transferring from community college to start nursing school. And Jenny, well, last I heard she was taking a year off to go to beauty school.

The freshwater touched my toes that were just seconds ago seared by the stovetop-hot sand. Stacey took the first steps into the water, and I followed.

Minnows darted between and around our legs. Normally fish freak me out, but as Stacey says, “What are they going to do, bite you?”

I wondered if they recognized each other. If they were friends. What their little minnow world was like.

Stacey and I talked about what we were seeing on the beach and in the water. Some comments snarky, others sincere. We talked a little about where we were at in life before deciding to swim out to the far end of the swimming area.

I touched the rope that indicated where the swimming area ended. If I were to swim beyond the rope, who would stop me? There were no lifeguards on duty, and I doubted anyone on the beach would care. But being the safety precaution obeyer that I am, I swam around with Stacey for a bit, then swam with her back to the thigh-high area.

The minnows were still there, slivers of dishwater blonde. Stacey plunged her hands in the water and made a grab for one. It easily escaped. She tried repeatedly until she actually came close to capturing one. Alarmed at the fact that she was almost was holding a slimy, scaley fish in her hands, we made our way back to the shore.

Some people swim past the rope. Some people catch the minnows. Other people just stay on the shore.