Sometimes I feel my mother.  I don’t mean I feel like her.  I feel her, in my body.  For instance, when I swim.  When my body rolls side to side, raising my arms from the water like knife blades to cut the water and push me forward, my mind’s eye sees the graceful arc of her arm and the turn of her body bringing her white rubber swim cap up and down, up and down, the kind with the chin strap.  I feel my arms are hers, and I wish I had one of those swim caps.

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