Things Worth Remembering by Jackina Stark

have noticed. They were certainly too preoccupied to notice my slipping into the pool most evenings, with only the moon and stars for company.
    Unfortunately, the summer after that, when this practice had become a consoling habit, they had begun to see me again.
    The night Mother came out and found me floating face-down in the water, they laid down the no-swimming-alone law. She so overreacted. She dove into the water, flipped me over, cupped her hand under my chin, and swam me to the stairs on the side of the pool. I was too shocked to protest.
    “What were you thinking, Maisey?” she said, holding on to the side of the pool, trying to get her breath.
    “Mother! What were you thinking? That’s the question!” I grabbed the hand bars and pulled myself up the steps. “Are you practicing to be a lifeguard or what?”
    “Stop right there, Maisey,” she said, climbing out of the pool behind me.
    I grabbed the towel I’d thrown on the table and wrapped it around myself. Mom stood dripping in the shorts and T-shirt that clung to her body. She walked across the patio, opened the door, and called for Dad to bring her a towel and robe. I wanted nothing more than to go to my room, but I was pretty sure I had better not move.
    When she came back to the table where I stood frozen in place, tears were streaming down her face. “I thought you were dead , Maisey! You looked dead, floating in the water like that! I thought you had hit your head or something.”
    She covered her face with her hands and shook with sobs. I looked at her in amazement, trying to understand why, since I was perfectly fine, she would be crying hysterically.
    Dad came out then, bringing a towel and her terry cloth robe, asking what was going on.
    Mother took off her shorts and shirt, just letting them splat on the patio, grabbed the towel from Dad, and rubbed down her arms and legs. When she had dried as much as she had patience for, Dad helped her on with her robe, and she collapsed in a chair.
    “I thought she was dead, Luke.”
    “I was only seeing how long I could hold my breath,” I said.
    “I counted to sixty.”
    “She was floating facedown in the water!”
    Hysterical—she was hysterical.
    “Maize,” Dad said, “go get ready for bed. We’ll talk about this later.”
    For the first time in a year, Mom came in with Dad to kiss me good-night. Dad had taken over bedtime duties when she had dropped out of life the summer before. When she finally felt better and wanted to take over again, I begged Dad to continue our new tradition. He seemed to like the idea, and I guess Mother thought he deserved to share this time with me, since she had hoarded it for thirteen years. But according to Dad she agreed “reluctantly.” And she did seem sad, but she had been sad for months. Dad tucked me in efficiently, fifteen minutes max, after we decided I was old enough to read to myself and to say prayers on my own. Mother said the transition had been too abrupt. And most nights she’d peek in and blow a kiss or say, “Sleep tight.” I always said, “Good night,” but the bugs never had anything to say.
    “I’m sorry,” Mother said, sitting beside me on my bed the night of the “rescue” and fight. “It was a misunderstanding. But, Maisey, no more swimming alone.”
    “Mother!”
    Dad, standing beside the bed, laid a finger on my lips, forbidding another word. “It’s not safe, Maize. We should never have allowed it. It’s a rule now. Break it and you’ll be grounded from the pool. We love you too much to risk an accident.”
    “Do you guys get to swim alone?”
    “We guys are grown, Maize,” he said. “But generally speaking, we won’t be swimming alone either.”
    They kissed me then and left the room, but not before looking back as though to make sure I was still there, tucked safely into bed. As soon as they shut the door, I got out of bed and stood at these windows, looking at the pool, wishing they hadn’t messed with something I