Summit loves to swim. He doesn’t love being forced to do things he doesn’t want to do in swimming lessons, but in general he is happy in the water. He loves splashing, smiling in glee as the water droplets splash me in my face. Sometimes he is still as I hold him, relaxing in the weightless suspension of the water. He blows bubbles when I ask him to. He loves his bucket and scoop. He tolerates it when I throw him up in the air and let him crash down into the water, knowing without a doubt that my arms are there to pull him up again. He trusts me blindly, walking off the step with his eyes squeezed shut. He laughs a lot and the sound of it mends that part of my heart that is forever breaking. I love how he clings to me like no other when we are in the water. His smile is perfection, his oddly spaced teeth displayed to the world in a wide, open grin. His eyes look beautiful in the water, the deep blue reflected. He gets cold after awhile and his little legs look prickly. I get him out as he starts to shake and I sit him on the warm concrete next to the pool. He is very still as I wrap my beach towel around him, stiller than I can ever make him be. Content, he holds the towel around him and lets the warmth seep into him from below and also above from the hot sun beating down. He doesn’t want to move, but life is forever moving forward with only little rests in between. He is silent in the coziness of the car and sleeps well at home.
