Over the Water

My son is climbing the ladder, rising higher and higher above those of us gathered around the

pool. We watch as he reaches the top with confidence, none of us sure if the confidence is real or simply false bravado, but in the end it does not matter how fast his heart is beating or how much he is shaking because he forces himself to the edge of the board. With one deep breath he draws me out of my seat to hover over his shoulder, and when he leaps I am pulled into the freefall alongside him, both of us tumbling through the air, my vision filling first with the clear, blue pool, then a raging river that pours through my mind, brown with mud and silt and the ruins of my life upstream, foaming as it stampedes under a rusted bridge that is my only way out, hazel and aqua and mahogany and cerulean and sky and earth flipping over and over again before my son slides into the clear pool, barely making a splash, reminding me that I have made it to the future and I am here and real and alive. And then, I am back on the edge of the bridge, taking careful, shaking steps backwards, away from the river, away from the fall, away from losing the small boy surfacing in the pool, bright water shining in his blue eyes.

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M.R. Lehman Wiens

M.R. Lehman Wiens is a Pushcart-nominated writer and stay-at-home dad living in Kansas. His work has previously appeared, or is upcoming in Consequence, Bright Flash Literary Review, The Metaworker, The Good Life Review, and others.