My Sister and Me

It was late afternoon on that summer day
when we dropped our clothes onto the dock
and dove in
our skinny bodies brown from a summer sun
that would always be there
at a lake so quiet
we could hear the fish jump.

The water was a deep blue-green
and we glided toward each other
beneath the surface, our eyes open
our mouths smiling as we blew bubbles
that floated to the surface and burst.

Later we dined
on peas and new potatoes
straight from the garden
in a cream sauce that only our mother could make
and laughed at stories that might never be told again.

We slept that night
between sheets bleached crisp on the line
and dreamed of water
and sun
and a life that would never end.

Today I stand on that dock
and wonder
if I were to dive in now
would I still see my sister swimming toward me
her hair flowing out behind her
like a mermaid?

And I think Yes.
We might hesitate a bit
cold water being what it is
our bodies being what they are
neither thin nor brown
our mouths still smiling.