There's a painting at the Chicago Institute of Art by Gustave Caillebotte titled Paris Street; Rainy Day. I used to go and look at it every Thursday. Thursday, because that's the day with the fewest ... [+]
Kenneth N. Margolin is a retired attorney, father of two daughters, and lives with his wife, Judith, in Newton, Massachusetts. During his legal career, Ken vowed to avoid legalese in his professional writing, believing that good legal writing was good writing. Ken's stories have been published in print and online in Short Édition, Dash Literary Journal, Evening Street Review, Twenty-Two Twenty-Eight, The Literary Hatchet, among others; poetry in Shot Glass Journal. "Swimming Home" was originally published in Peeking Cat Poetry Journal, February 2016. It is now a part of Short Édition's series, The Current.
Originally published in Peeking Cat Poetry Journal, February 2016
Twenty years ago, I took my daughter, Sara, to the ocean for her fourth birthday. She just learned to dog paddle, and proudly walked up to anyone in sight, saying, "I can swim." The sea was calm, so I let her sit on her float in the water."Not too far," I said.She knew the rules, and I wasn't worried. After a moment's distraction, I heard her yell, "Look, Mommy." She had drifted out well over her head, and as I began to call for her to come in, she plopped off the raft to show me how she could swim. I screamed for help because I can't swim a stroke. Sara panicked almost immediately. I ran into