The sun was shining, just like the sun is shining as I look across the water: Over water that stole the prior twenty-seven years – almost three decades spent behind steel bars; on concrete floors. I watch black liquid lapping languidly against the shore: Tendrils dragging shoreline slowly underneath the surface like I’ve watched them pull, before.

The sun was shining, the air was warm; her smile, even more.

I stare across the lapping water and remember looking in her eyes. I see her smile.

I close my eyes.

They close against the present. Against a chance to live a life I never had. They close against the loss, and fear, and desperation – complete helplessness.

Eyes can never close for long: Because I see it.

I see her body dripping from our swim. I see her smile. I feel her tender fingers slip into my own. And, I see her eyes: Panic – it choked the single word she spoke, one word to express the terror felt, a single mote that raised my fear, confusion; that asked for help. She spoke my name. She called out, “Tom?” And all I thought to answer, was, “What is going on?”

The last words she heard before the water pulled.

I stand enclosed in quiet behind the windows that seal the patio. I see the water that stole her life and mine. I see the looks of neighbors in their yards, eyes casting disapproval that I’ve returned.

I was trying to pull her out, not hold her down.