I sat at the edge of the shallow end, feet in the water. A young father was trying to coax his boy to put his face under.
The kid was crying. The father kept saying, 'Just for a second. One Mississippi.'
It was report card day somewhere. I remembered the June my son brought home a C in math. He was nine.
I kept that report card for years. Found it last week in a box of wires and old keys. The ink had faded.
There's a corkboard in the locker room here, covered in expired coupons. Somebody's mother probably put them up. Nobody takes them down.
I'm seventy-three years old and I live alone now. First time in my life. The silence is like water after a long dive.
That boy in the pool finally put his face in. Came up coughing and laughing. His father lifted him high.
I think I've been waiting to be lifted like that. But maybe I'm the one who has to do the lifting now.
I got out of the pool. Walked home past the vineyards. The sun was gold. I thought about calling my son.