I’m being haunted by a memory or perhaps it was a dream. I don’t know any longer.

I do know when I drive narrow highways, twisting through the trees, I remember a house, maybe more of a cabin. It was brown and set back in the trees. I remember swimming on a hot, sunny day, much like today, too early to be Indian Summer, but too late to feel carefree. I remember kissing a boy in a swimming hole. I was happy there, in the warm, green water. I don’t think I was in love or trying to convince myself I was and I don’t remember who he was. I remember sinking to the bottom of the pond and looking up through the sun spangled surface, surrounded by people, yet immersed in silence.

It could have been Eutawville, Ridgeville, Bethera, or nowhere at all.

I drive on and hope one day to remember.


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