Dip, push, pull, pivot. Dip, push, pull, pivot.

The mantra was unnecessary after so many years on the water; her body knew how to propel the sleek kayak smoothly along the quiet creek. So automatic and efficient were her motions that she’d easily out-paddled the rest of the over 40s in the canoe club’s annual race last month. No, today the chant’s sole purpose was to calm her racing thoughts, to mute the what-ifs, to stem the flood of emotions that threatened to swamp rational thought as surely as rapids could capsize her little boat. Her life was irrevocably changed, and she needed clarity of mind before she could begin to think about how she would move forward from here.

Dip, push, pull, pivot. Dip, push, pull, pivot.

She hadn’t believed the words when they’d tumbled from the mouth of the 11:00 news anchor. Seeing them in print in this morning’s paper hadn’t been enough to convince her either. A frantic internet search led to the same information, and surely three sources could not be wrong. Yet, stubbornly, she refused to acknowledge the truth that was before her, and raced downtown to verify the news at its source. The bell on the door had tinkled its usual farewell as she stepped dazedly back onto the sidewalk, clutching the computerized printout in her trembling fist. It was confirmed. Unexpected, unbelievable, but absolutely undeniable. All six numbers were a match. The largest jackpot in the nation’s history. A stroke of luck.

Dip, push, pull, pivot. Dip, push, pull, pivot.