Still Here is a monthly column from Columbia writer and poet Cassie Premo Steele that explores SC's wild and rural places.

I’d been there once before with my dog. A 30-mile drive from Columbia, either by I-20 or by the backroads of 601 and Old Stagecoach Road, took us to Goodale State Park just outside Camden.

Lenny Bruce the pup at Goodale State Park.

My dog and I spent an afternoon walking along the edge of the lake and enjoying the sight of ducks, kingfishers and osprey.

The site of a Civil War-era mill pond, the focal point of the park is a 140-acre lake where tall cypress trees rise from the water and cast lovely shadows in shades of blue and gray.

Cypress trees at Goodale State Park.

In addition to the lake, though, one of the amazing features of the park is a 3-mile canoe and kayaking trail that winds through the forest trees and provides paddlers with shade, which can be a welcome respite in the warmer months.

So when my wife and I first learned to kayak, I knew we had to go back, this time to enjoy the sights from the vantage point of that welcoming blue water itself.

Signs showed us the way through trees and vines and aquatic plants, and our everyday worries and stress faded away such that when we emerged from the trail, we were still feeling invigorated enough to head out across the middle of the lake.

On the lake at Goodale State Park.

It was a Sunday.

We were fairly novice kayakers.

And it happened.

Halfway across the lake, my wife got stuck.

I don’t know if her kayak was caught on a tree or a root beneath the water, but suddenly she couldn’t paddle, and her kayak started taking on water.

I navigated my way over to her and took her phone and wallet and keys to the truck in case she went under.

I didn’t think this was quite a 911 type of situation. But I looked up the number for the park ranger on my phone. And then I dialed the number.

No answer.

So I left a ridiculous message: “My wife is going down. I don’t know if you can do anything.”

As I hung up, we simultaneously burst into raucous laughter that echoed across the water.

Still stuck, still taking on water, but realizing in the middle of everything that we still had the ability to laugh together: it is a lesson that lodged deep within the roots of our marriage and still sustains us to this day.

The kayaks tilted back and forth under the rollicking rhythm of our glee.

And in that moment, as I was torn between paddling away to go get help and not wanting to leave her, just as inexplicably as the kayak was immobilized, it started to move again.

We paddled back slowly, feeling a bit drained from the adrenaline release but grateful to have survived this close encounter with a sunken boat and winter swim in chilly water.

That was four years ago.

And here we are again.

Once again navigating dangerous waters as a queer couple in a deep red state.

Still here.

Some days we feel we’re going down. As laws are passed and executive orders are signed that threaten our rights, our marriage and our lives.

Some days we feel we’re all going down. Not just those of us who dare to be who we are even when we are different from the norm, but the nation itself as constitutional norms are breached.

Some days I make phone calls to legislators: “I don’t know if you can do anything.”

But we keep paddling.

We keep watching out for each other.

And we keep laughing together.

I’ve got a "woo woo" friend who says the angels hear us best when we are laughing.

I don’t know if that is true, but laughter does indeed feel like the liquid essence of the soul.

The sound that tells the world we are, despite everything, still here.

Because laughter, like water, comes from deep within and spills out to connect us with those around us.

A water lily at Goodale State Park.

It is the melody of the music that says you’re not alone.

It is the music that reminds us there is still so much that is well and good in the world.

It is the song of spring that promises the renewal of everything.

Because out of that liquid, from roots that lodge themselves deep within the mud and stems that have the strength to keep reaching up, can pop gorgeous water lilies in the center of the pool.