Rowena, a difficult mom,
watches Cleo, her difficult daughter,
while complaining about the scent of chlorine
to whoever will listen in this difficult town
when, without warning, Cleo takes off
for the deep end.
She's four.

Cleo splashes a rudimentary crawl.
Her legs dangle.
She's tiny out there, an acorn with arms.
Half across the deep end she flails.
Rowena screams "Cleo!" and runs to the ladder.
Lifeguard is on his feet, ready.
Rowena, poised to jump, shakes him off.
Water games stop. Sunbathers sit up.
Alert, silent, we watch.

Thrashing like a paddlewheel boat,
Cleo advances slightly faster than driftwood
to the ladder, and we hear her small voice:
"Mommy, I need to work on that."
And we exhale as one, all one,
at the community pool.


© by Joe Cottonwood.
Used here with the author's permission.