The time of wind on the Wando and young laughter on the water has come in with the last tide. The tide reaches around East Cooper like a friend with a twice daily embrace of saline affection. The water rises up in the marshes until it reflects the light of the sun, moon and stars and draws the silage of the winter's harvest into the summer water to nourish the billions of lives which swim and scuttle across the bottom as it leaves.

Lowcountry lives are defined by water, not land. We are they who understand nowhere until we have seen its water. We travel the earth going to the shore of river, sea and ocean. We study the local boats, their skippers and the way they cleat a line. We stroll the markets of slick, silvery fish and crustacea. We drink, travel upon and eat what comes from the water. We shape it. It shapes us.

When we are young, if we are lucky and live east of the Cooper, we are taught to sail at Hobcaw Yacht Club. We spend winters neglecting the pile of boat gear which languishes in a chilly heap in the dusty back corner of the garage. We pause with regret over what is broken, corroded, frayed and worn. When dragging out the Halloween decorations, the Christmas lights and the fertilizer spreader, we regard these other chores and events as spacers between the summers for which that precious gear exists. Those winter months are like the hot, still hours when the tide is low and the fiddler crabs scuttle across the mud trying to scavenge tidbits before the sun bakes them to death. We wait through all of those cold months on the sun, the tide and, most of all, the wind.

Finally, though the flower bed needs weeding and the sink leaks, we will hear no more about what needs to be done. We see the sails of other's boats upon the river. The door which big enough to receive a car but never does is yanked open. Light and air pour into the darkness. Then, which cannot be later this year than now, nothing matters but the need to repair, reeve and release the shore's grip. The youth sailing committee did not wait so long at Hobcaw Yacht Club.

Young sailors are hard on boats. Last summer's busted gunwales have been mended by matting and resin.

Gelcoat has been dabbed over the cracks and patches, then wet sanded to a satin shine. Crisp new fittings of nylon and stainless have been fixed on the decks. New line, smooth and supple as the smile of a young girl runs across the polished decks.

The greasy guts of engines on the motorized chase boats have been polished clean with solvents and filled with fresh oil. What should be stout is strong. What must bend is flexible. What should be smooth and slick has been rendered alien to friction.

The fleet is renewed and ready.

So are our children. No child who understands it can resist being chance to Skipper their own boat, even if it comes at the price of safety instruction, wearing a life vest and following rules. Children long to leave their parents at the dock, nervous and hopeful and work their way across the river in the little square bowed Optimist Prams when they are young. Youth loves to carve the Wando wind and water with the sails and blades of the swift and powerful 420s.

The young bring a focus to sailing purer than those of us with mortgages and business on our minds can manage to do.

When they sail, they are on the river and wish to be nowhere else.

Youth sailing at Hobcaw begins after school ends, and runs through mid August. It is a bargain, but not cheap. Sailors know time and tide are impatient. They do not wait. This summer is my son's last with us. He hopes for blue skies and a crossing wind. Do not wait and let the Xbox fill your child's July afternoons. Do not trust June to the movie theater. Do not leave August to the Internet. The wind moves on and children should chase it in boats if they live here.

You will not remember what you sacrifice to make it possible. Details can be found at http://tinyurl.com/hobcawsail. Mary Sanders can answer questions: hobcawsailing@aol.com, 881-3149.

Let your child sail this summer. You cannot call the tide back in after the water has been pulled down to the sea

William Hamilton (www.wjhamilton.com) is an attorney who lives in I'On Village who learned to sail at Hobcaw Yacht Club in 1972 and his son in 2005.