Missing the Boat

"It's so much friendlier with two."
-Winnie the Pooh

We owned a house in Texas once- in as much as anybody ever really owns anything. We did not stay there for more than a year but in a brief span of time we made a number of friends and established some cheerful and indelible memories. Purchasing a house opens one up to new contacts as it is such a lengthy and complicated process.
Our Realtor, who quickly became our friend, took me out for shopping excursions, showed me the local areas and bookstores and encouraged me to meet people, that Spouse and I might become acquainted with the community.
One such time she thought it would be fun to go canoeing on the river that runs through downtown Austin. There were many grassy and shady nooks along the bank and despite it being in the heart of a city, the river was very beautiful.
We hired a canoe, dragged it as close to the water's edge as possible and prepared to climb in. We had to walk in the water first so my friend took off her shoes and flung them into the boat.
I did the same. One of my shoes, however, kept going, flew out over the boat and landed with a miserable splash in the river.
I stood numbly on the bank and wondered what to do next. The entire day would be a disaster if spent with just one shoe.
Without a thought for anything but said shoe, my friend stepped into the current and waded until she was more than knee deep in the Colorado River. She grappled around below the surface and grabbed my shoe before it sank too far and was lost forever.
In the interim she had forgotten all about her cell phone, which she had put carefully into her pocket. The phone had been submerged for a good minute or two. As things turned out, it never did function again. She kindly and patiently laughed it all off as an adventure.
We rowed as we had intended, splashing serenely through the water, slicing the river with our paddles, passing careless idle turtles perched on wet and floating branches.
I cannot separate the two events. I think of the solitude of the slapping water, the mild rolling of the boat, the lush green of the park we set out from, and I think of my sodden shoe and a ruined cell phone; and I think, too, of how utterly useless the excursion would have been had I gone canoeing by myself, even if I had possession of both shoes.
The company we keep nearly always makes the day.