We shall miss the water, she said. It brought it all back. That boat. How did I ever think we could make it into a home. I clutched at things. Anything, however flimsy. I was cornered. It was my own fault. I’d lost my practicality, my sense of truth. And yet, for that short time it was ours. I liked the rocking, the movement. I had hopes for something, though what that was, I didn’t then know. She makes it look beautiful, that kind of life. I could have lived it. I could.
