It was a quiet August evening. There wasn't a sound to be heard. A light breeze blew as if the world was sighing. I was out in the middle of a lake kayaking. The lake was so calm that when I dipped my paddle in the water, it was as if I was breaking through a layer of glass.

Denali was a giant standing proud and tall for all to see. The sky was like a cloudless blue bird flying high to the heavens. Like a blanket protecting the fragile glasslike surface of the water, the lake was covered by a lavender-blue colored mist.

Two swans sat in the middle of the mist. They were a king and queen on their crystal thrones. Their feathers were as white as a dusting of snow on a winter's morning. Their eyes shone like black jewels glinting in the light. When they swam, they were dancers gliding across a crystal surface.

They looked at me. I felt as if someone sprinkled magic all over me. My eyes met with theirs and I felt our souls connecting. This was a magical, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Just then, my dad paddled to me. Just as gracefully as they came, the swans left, knowing it wasn't only me there anymore.

I still remember that moment as if it were minutes ago. I'll always remember that night, that quiet August evening, when there wasn't a sound on the lake, and the swans and I met with magic in the mist.