She clung to my neck like I was the only dry thing in the world. The shallow end was barely up to her chest.
I told her we could stay there as long as she wanted. No pressure, no deep end.
Twenty-three minutes later, she let go of my hand and kicked off the bottom. Just once. Then she grabbed me again, grinning.
After the pool, we stopped at the hardware store for a can of paint labeled 'touch-ups.' A scuff mark on the hallway wall.
The checkout line was long at closing time. She leaned against my leg, tired and happy.
I realized then that nobody had ever waited for me like that. Twenty-three minutes in the shallow end of a public pool was more than I ever got.
But I was giving it to her. And maybe that's what family ties are—not blood, but the time you're willing to stand still.