My father
was a strong, athletic man;
a high school wrestler and weight lifter,
as a young man
an accomplished professional dancer.
I have a very early memory
of riding atop his back
as he swam the length
of our backyard pool.
Although terrified
at being surrounded by rushing water,
I was sure
his broad shoulders
would support and protect me.
I had absolute faith in his body.
It was an impenetrable barrier
and offered absolute protection.
I was very young,
probably not more
than three years old.
But this memory is vivid.
My arms
are wrapped around his neck,
I can smell his wet skin,
and I feel his muscles
moving beneath me
with every stroke.
My heart is in my throat
and
I am thrilled.
This memory . . .