An essay about drowning, trauma, and the ways we go unseen, kindly published by New Orleans Review.

The essay begins:

“I envy the grace with which some people take to water: their bodies slick, their confidence unquestioned, feet-first, head-first, the body first a closed fist, then a palm extended, plunging and gliding and breathing with ease. I’ve a graceful doggy paddle at best and more often than not have to hold my nose, an embarrassment for a woman over forty. Still, all my life I’ve been drawn to the water, like my mother before me.”

To read the full essay, please click here.