It was early in the year, too early for loons, yet there was one there watching me from the water. I paddled closer and it did not dive, just watched me with red eyes. That whole summer and into fall I went to the lake as often as I could, and the lonely loon was always there. I would do my work for the day, run my errands, be a person in a crowd of people, but always counting the hours until I could go back to the water with its loon. So I could be lonely, at last.