A breath.  Bobbing.  My eyes gaze up at the blue sky.
A breath.  I sink.  The cold water surrounds me.
A whistle.  A splash.  Motion and waves move towards me.
A hand.  A snatch.  She grabs my body and yanks me upwards.
A breath.  The air fills my lungs.
A smile.  She looks at me.
“Hey buddy,” she says, “I got you.”  
The lifeguard swims me to the wall.
Safe.

Before their embrace, he visited the bathroom yet again.

“Got cash?”

She paid. They both knew he should have his own fare. They both knew why he didn’t.

“Talk soon?”

Both knew he wouldn’t call. Since birth (her third Passover), he couldn’t be tamed – first “class clown,” then “life of the party,” now “a danger to himself.” All grown, he remained a laughing cherub tugging on her braid. She’d always love him anyway.

Earlier this spring, I took a picture of the pink blossoms at the East Brunswick Public Library. This picture was featured on the Tap-Into East Brunswick news. I am grateful and honored that my picture was selected to be featured because I can share the beauty of nature and the pink blossoms with others.

The moon gleamed on the backyard bay when she found Stephen crying and alone on the patio, shivering, completely drenched. Empty beer cans surrounded the dejected figure. His suit reeked of the salty, pungent marine scent. The crisp, clear night  brought a biting breeze but inside the wedding venue people joyously danced and mingled with friends and loved ones. She took her son's cold, trembling hand in hers. In silence they went home.