Day 1,658: 100 Word Blog Post Challenge

Swimming

At some point, they just knew. My daughter’s tiny legs churning behind powerful arms. Butterfly, backstroke. Silently pushing the water for hours, hardly getting tired. My son would sing and talk; was he paying attention? One day we had the pool to ourselves. He swam laps unassisted for an hour, kept jumping in, bellyflopping on purpose, hurting himself, laughing.

My husband holds his breath when he swims. I learned to swim 35 years ago; I’ve forgotten some things, but not my best thing: I’m an expert at floating. I can stay afloat, unmoving, a “dead man.” But not.