I’m told she skipped school. That she rowed to the middle of Union Lake with three boys, maybe because she hated math, maybe because the day was warm or she hoped for her first kiss. I’m told she didn’t know how to swim. That when water flooded in, the boys swam for shore, turned around and saw nothing but the twinkling of sun on calm water. A cousin I never knew swam through conversation at Thanksgiving dinner, between stuffing and corn, like a partial meal to digest. I waited for pumpkin pie, hoping it would bring a happy ending.
Sally Simon lives in New York. Her work has appeared in Hobart, (mac)ro(mic), and elsewhere. She's a past reader for Five Minutes. Find Sally at www.sallysimonwriter.com.