Swimsuit

I lived on a lake, it has defined me. From swimming with the fish under the rippling glass surface, to collecting frogs for a nickel a piece; I put them in a plastic ice cream pail. The lake washes over my life and changes me like waves over rock, smoothing me over.

I played bridge troll with my cousins at Grandma Ingrid's. We would take turns being the troll. My cousin Brian made a great troll. I was always scared to cross when it was his turn to attack us. Still, I was always just fast enough.

Grandma Ingrid liked me okay for a stranger, but I knew she thought something was odd when I wouldn't wear the washcloths pinned into a bathing suit (my Dad had forgot mine at home). "In the Great Depression they didn't have swimsuits" my Grandma would lecture me. It might be true I thought, but at four it didn't mean much to me.

At four I had a sense of pride. I knew right where my swimsuit was in my bedroom. There was only a lake between us. My dad could take the pontoon over and bring it right back, which he eventually did.

My cousin Annie and her friends were swimming. The rule was I had to swim with someone, or I couldn't go. I finally had MY swimsuit on and I started to run toward the lake just as my cousin and her friends decided they were done swimming.

I stood there in my brown two piece swimsuit, my feet were in water with murk and mud swirling around them. The lake was a true stars and stripe blue color. The murk settled as I stood there. No adults, so I couldn't swim. Instead I just stood there with tears like tadpoles plopping in the water.