My Grandmother -grandma- You-re Wet- -final- By... Patched Page

And I thought: I should have held her longer. I should have told her that water isn’t the enemy. That the creek didn’t take her brother—the rock did, the bad luck, the cruel arithmetic of childhood accidents. Water is just water. It holds us, or it doesn’t. But it doesn’t hate us.

I found her standing at the sink, her translucent hands gripping the edge of the counter. She was wearing her favorite floral dress — the one with the lilacs — though it hung on her now like a flag on a windless day. Her white hair, usually pinned in a tight bun, had escaped in wild wisps. My Grandmother -Grandma- you-re wet- -Final- By...

I was sleeping on the couch. The clock said 2:47. And I thought: I should have held her longer