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  • I think this is really it. The breeze is raised flesh on damp skin, bathing suits stay wet even in the sun. My endless summer isn't.

    The last time I stood at the top of the waterfall was more than ten years ago. I don't realize I've been gone so long until I am in the water, kicking up out of the cold. At the surface I yelp and laugh. I forget to swim against the current into the quiet space behind the falls. My feet don't remember which rocks to stand on and I'm tumbled over the rock lip between the churning water and the still pool beyond. It takes a minute to find my way out of the water. I am clumsy looking for footholds, taking careful steps; my second nature is gone. As I leave the water I pull my suit back into place; I'm shivering.

    When I gain dry ground I press myself flat against the rock. I stop shaking, the goosebumps sink back into my skin, my skin dries. Borrowing heat from granite, I close my eyes and pretend that it's still July.
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