I am under water, blowing air out to empty my lungs so I sink to the bottom.
My eyes are closed. I feel the bubbles roll past my nose and over my face. My legs are bent, and my arms tucked in. I'm getting ready. All the air out, I wait. Concentrate.
Then in one burst, I thrust upward. My legs extend, and my arms push up. I break the surface and throw her up into the air.
As the water flows away from my open eyes, I see her up in the air. Her legs and arms are outstretched. She is falling to the side.
Even before she hits the water, her younger brother swims over. "My turn. Throw me," he directs. He is smaller. He goes higher.
It is hard to throw her. She is getting big. She doesn't go as high any more. I get tired.
She loves it. She still squeals in delight, then swims back and says, "Do it again."
I am going to throw her as much as I can this year. Next summer she will be even bigger. I don't even know if she will want to play with her dad in the pool next summer.
Hilton Head Island