I love swimming. I love the feel of gliding through the water. I love reaching my hand as far as I can for the most distance. I have a strong kick and an even stronger paddle. I focus on the
“Let’s go, Chris!” “I’m coming!” I shouted in a whisper. It was the summer of 1992. I was a teenager. My best friend, Johnny, had been stealing his step-dad’s shiny new Lincoln Continental every weekend and picking me up at
There is a kid next door. A child about 7 years old. This child screams. He screams at moths and mosquitos because, to him, every mosquito is a monster and every moth is trying to kill him. “OH MY GOD!