Two attempts at the same idea
I could never get this one to work right. One of these is complete, the other is, well, not. In case you are interested, the story I posted earlier called Love Supreme is a response to this.
#1 (Incomplete)
We took the little rowing boat out onto the lake nearly every day that August. Henry was 25 at the time, his youngest daughter Tabitha was 8. The first trips were short. We would row out to the island (more of a rock than an island, really) that stood about midway between Henry's cottage the dam, and let Tabitha clamber over the rocks. She would pull strands of lichen off the rough sandstone and drape them in her hair while you took out your binoculars and scanned the reeds around the dam, looking for blue heron. On August 2nd we spent half the day painting the rowboat bright red, Tabitha watching from the swingset, and when she glanced away I took my brush and flicked it along the line where the hem of your jean shorts met your leg.
#2 (Somewhat finished)
I am strong and sure in everything that I do, you say. Your arms are stretching towards me now, your legs pushing down into the patchy yellow couch. If we weren't right here, right now, I would ask you. I would ask you about where we spent a month last summer. We were watching the cabin of a mutual friend, and babysitting his ten year old daughter. Every weekend you and I would take Tabitha out on the lake in an old rowboat. We all spent a week painting it a bright, vibrant red, Tabitha's favorite color. When we went out one saturday, Tabitha asked you, "If you could go anywhere you wanted, you know, but in this boat, where would you go?", and you answered without hesitationg, "Zimbabwe." And Tabitha, the resident geography expert, laughed and shouted, "You can't get there! That's landlocked, you know", and you smiled and said, "Madagascar, then. That's an island, isn't it? Madagascar, Africa. I'd love to see part of Africa." And Tabitha began to chatter excitedly about how Africa and South America fit together, "Just like a jigsaw puzzle".
Do you remember swimming out in that same lake, and stretching out afterword on the small wooden dock, tucked next to each other like sardines. You, her and me. Laughing and rolling , pretending to try to push each other into the water. Your legs against your swimsuit were as striking then as they are know, sitting on our ugly couch in our ugly home. Ask me what I remember, and I'll tell you: I'm not as strong as you think I am.
Ok. So, there we are. Ah, the creative process! Once again, I wouldn't mind hearing what people think.
#1 (Incomplete)
We took the little rowing boat out onto the lake nearly every day that August. Henry was 25 at the time, his youngest daughter Tabitha was 8. The first trips were short. We would row out to the island (more of a rock than an island, really) that stood about midway between Henry's cottage the dam, and let Tabitha clamber over the rocks. She would pull strands of lichen off the rough sandstone and drape them in her hair while you took out your binoculars and scanned the reeds around the dam, looking for blue heron. On August 2nd we spent half the day painting the rowboat bright red, Tabitha watching from the swingset, and when she glanced away I took my brush and flicked it along the line where the hem of your jean shorts met your leg.
#2 (Somewhat finished)
I am strong and sure in everything that I do, you say. Your arms are stretching towards me now, your legs pushing down into the patchy yellow couch. If we weren't right here, right now, I would ask you. I would ask you about where we spent a month last summer. We were watching the cabin of a mutual friend, and babysitting his ten year old daughter. Every weekend you and I would take Tabitha out on the lake in an old rowboat. We all spent a week painting it a bright, vibrant red, Tabitha's favorite color. When we went out one saturday, Tabitha asked you, "If you could go anywhere you wanted, you know, but in this boat, where would you go?", and you answered without hesitationg, "Zimbabwe." And Tabitha, the resident geography expert, laughed and shouted, "You can't get there! That's landlocked, you know", and you smiled and said, "Madagascar, then. That's an island, isn't it? Madagascar, Africa. I'd love to see part of Africa." And Tabitha began to chatter excitedly about how Africa and South America fit together, "Just like a jigsaw puzzle".
Do you remember swimming out in that same lake, and stretching out afterword on the small wooden dock, tucked next to each other like sardines. You, her and me. Laughing and rolling , pretending to try to push each other into the water. Your legs against your swimsuit were as striking then as they are know, sitting on our ugly couch in our ugly home. Ask me what I remember, and I'll tell you: I'm not as strong as you think I am.
Ok. So, there we are. Ah, the creative process! Once again, I wouldn't mind hearing what people think.