his cigarette is burning but he never seems to ash

finally something green.



still gray and cold. henry tracks mud with his pirate boots. he stands in my mother's yard and drives a stick deep into the mud, then jerks it back sending mud-chunks up and over his head, my head, jude's head, the front fence. he laughs and does it again. jude peers over the edge of the backpack with his red nose and blue hat.



jude's latest obsession is all things henry. they laugh at each other, jude jumping his laugh as he tries to prop himself into a stand using henry's face as a crutch.



henry is taking swimming classes at the ymca. we go two mornings a week. i spend all morning gathering swimming gear and supplies for jude's stay with grandma. the swimming part is exciting. henry is fearless in his floating swimming clothes. he paddles the width of the pool for half an hour and then we climb out in a drip and head for home.

on tuesday mornings a handicapped rehab group comes to swim. the kids don't swim, they are pulled around in the water by their life-jackets by tender caregivers. they make loud moaning noises that bounce in an echo off of the ceiling and back down off of the sheet of water that barely ripples as they float across, back and forth, sometimes in a zig-zag, sometimes in a circle. their wheelchairs stand at attention along the side, towels draped over the seats, more caregivers leaning against the wall behind them. it takes a long time to hoist the children onto the lift and up and out of the water, to strap them into their chairs and wheel them into the locker room. later, when henry and i shiver in towels through the showers and to our things the children are still being dressed. the workers lay them naked on towels on the benches and dress them. henry is curious to see them and i feel curious, too. i am embarrassed for them to be naked and unknowing under the fluorescent lights. and then, to my shame, i'm embarrassed to see them there and i try to hurry henry past so that he doesn't see them. i grasp his hand tightly and appreciate his liveliness, no small joy to appreciate.