Dear Reese,
You have your first swimming lesson today. Ten months and we are ready to make you a little fish. A necessity when you live by the lake as we do. There is only one other mom and baby in the class at the YMCA in Fish Creek. It’s a new logistical puzzle for me to get us there and swimsuit-ready on time, but we do it.
And then . . . well, you’re not a happy camper, little girl. You start crying before we even get into the pool. I have Blue Harbor waterpark flashbacks. Maybe you do too. You cry for half the lesson, maybe a little more. I hold you and sing songs with the teacher and smile and let you know it’s okay as we move through the water.
When I lay your head on my shoulder and have you float on your back as we sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” you calm down a little. Maybe because that’s your nap song. But when we start chasing toys through the water, you get into it. It starts with a duck, and then there’s a little floating penguin toy you love. I throw it a few feet ahead of us, and you grab for it as I push you forward in the water. It’s a game to teach you to put your arms out and reach.
Then there are a bunch of colorful plastic balls to herd and grab — the same ones you have at the cottage in your ball pit — and you have fun with that too. There’s a smile and some clapping by the end. Phew. We’ll be there for the thirty minutes every Sunday for the next month and a half.
My boss tells me to take pictures, but I am in the pool with you and we’re a little too emotionally wrung out afterwards for me to get my camera out. But you were very cute in your blue and pink suit, despite the redness around your eyes. I love you. I’ll be there with you again next week.
Love,
Mama
The Knight & The Cursed Forest, Part 14
You walk through the forest, and at last it’s your forest. The trees you know. The scent of your best memories with your family. You’ve missed it.
The duck suddenly freezes at your side and holds out a wing to stop you. “Wait — bear!” he says. And then a little louder, “Two, no, three bears!”
Sure enough, through the trees up ahead, you see at least three brown bears. They turn at the sound of the duck’s quacking and, after a lengthy staredown, start charging at you.
“Run!” the duck screams. And you do. “Not that way!” the ducks say again because you’re running straight at the bears! When you’re close, you leap up and throw your arms around the lead bear’s neck, nuzzling into its soft fur.
The other bears join and rub against you, and you could cry from happiness.
“Ahh!” the duck says, running in circles on the ground.
“It’s okay,” you tell him. “These bears are my family. They raised me.”
The duck stops and lets out a low quack. “Oh, so the curse is that your family has been turned into bears?”
“No, they’re just bears,” you say, stepping back from the hug. You explain to the duck how you arrived in the forest floating down on a leaf when you were really small, and the bears who live in these woods took you in and gave you a home.
“We missed you,” the bears tell you. “We didn’t know when you’d be back.”
”I’m back to help, if I can,” you say. “I met The Great Bullfrog, but her power can’t help us here, so I’m going to try myself.”
“She’s a knight! And I’m her squire,” he says proudly.
“I’m not sure about that,” you say hesitantly. “But to break the curse I need to learn more. It’s time I finally saw the birthplace of the curse. Will you take me before nightfall?”
To be continued.