![]() ![]() I can still hear the splashing, hear the brief, surprised cries. ![]() My mother gone, and I tumbling through the air, caught by other arms, rough ones that grip so hard around my middle that I can hardly breathe. the memory is torn apart, upended, overturned, as the boat must have been. I am held safely, cradled in love and watchfulness. It makes me very sleepy, and the sloshing of the water all around me makes a blanket of sound, wrapping me securely. The boat is rocking gently, and my mother is rocking me as well, so I sway to a double rhythm. And closer even than that, the lulling, drowsy smell of my mother’s skin by my nose, where she holds me against her bosom, her hand making a sunshade across my forehead to shield my eyes. ![]() I even taste the sting of the salt against my lips, where the fine, misty spray coats them. Dancing blue waters, and the sound of waves. ![]()
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