This morning, after orchestrating a torrent of activities for the girls, I was putting away the inflatable pool and slide our friends gave to us. My hands pressed upon the soft, blue walls and slid into the water. Swirls of childhood tickled my face as I looked toward the upstairs of our house to see if anyone was peeking through the curtains instead of napping. The windows were empty and I slipped into a reverie of water long since evaporated, wrinkled fingers of my own— smaller and baring no ragged cuticles or blisters, traced circles on the surface. The warm-from-the-sun-water with its slightly thick quality stoked memories of the possibility that lived in the wind on my face. Running, my feet sank into the…

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