Response I, Assignment I

My first memory is of my mother snapping a tight rubber swim cap over my ears. And I looked up at her with a mix of anguish and delight. I love that feeling. You are all at once contained in neon rubber, your hair soft and dry. But your head is in open water—a river, a sewer, a dunk tank. A shark could nibble on your digits, but the tops of your ears would be unharmed.

What’s the best thing about being underwater? I think you decay faster in fresh water. I like to sometimes sit on the bottom of the pool and close my eyes and imagine my particles and pieces mixing with chlorine and blue tiles. Everything could turn to dust, everything except what is tucked beneath my rubber cap. They would find me there sixteen weeks later, nothing but bone, gristle, and bright pink latex pulled tight over brown curls.