poolside ovenbird It’s hot. And lemonade barely slows my inevitable descent into sludge. Beyond the horizon of my toes the kids do handstands in the pool while a cousin who recently slipped from boy to man floats lazily on an inflatable lounger. We eat hotdogs and coleslaw and put ice in our glasses and it melts before it can reach our lips. These are the idyllic summer moments of a childhood that isn’t mine. My son’s goggles have left his eyes red and raccoon rimmed. My daughter is complaining that nothing is fair. My brain is overheating and it’s hard to know what’s real out here where the sun creates a mirage as it bounces off the water. When it was your turn to be young did you sit on the blue swirl of the pool liner and let garbled word bubbles rise from your mouth? Did you try to guess what your friends were saying as they floated, legs crossed like buddhas, beneath the surface? If I dove to the bottom now and shouted your name, would you hear me? 260730 what's it to you? who go blather from