“Laura, it fits you so well and it’s so cheap.” I clutched the bag holding the bathing suit all the way home. I couldn’t believe my mother bought something so beautiful for me and so brand new.

The piping around the neck and legs is bright royal blue and there’s a sleek hole cut out in the back that gives me an interesting tan line. It is the kind of bathing suit that professional swimmers wear and I never want to take it off.

The red bricks surrounding the pool soak up the sun while small weeds grow in between them and watch us swim. My cousin Tom and I take turns hurling ourselves off the diving board. We make up rhymes and ridiculous songs, talking non-stop as we haul our soaking bodies out of the pool by way of the silver ladder that hangs sadly in the deep end.

Tom hands me a pink diving ring and I put both feet through it, binding my legs together. We pretend to be mermaids. Sometimes, little brown beetles accidentally fly into the pool and then struggle to get out. I like scooping them up and putting them safely down on the bricks. They scratch my fingertips when I save them from the water and their prickly legs feel like straw against my skin.

Later, sitting around a picnic table, my cousin Christine points out that the chlorine in the pool is turning my hair green. I touch my wet ponytail and it feels slimy. I stare across the table at her perfect auburn hair and wish mine were red too. I pile my plate with hot dogs, macaroni salad, cucumbers, tomatoes, corn on the cob and a piece of fresh mozzarella cheese. I save that for last as the sun sets behind the fence.

I’m at the ocean with my mother and siblings. We didn’t get here until almost evening because the parking is free after 5 pm. Most people have left for the day but we are just getting started. The sea is angry today and the undertow is strong. I shriek every time a new wave appears over my head, both scared and excited. My mother dives into them, disappearing and reappearing effortlessly through the water.

“Just go with the flow of it,” she tells me, wiping her wet brown locks from her eyes. “Don’t fight the current, just slowly move with it.”

I promise her that I will and together we dive and jump and splash. When I get tired, I try to find a break between the large waves so I can swim safely for shore without getting crashed down upon. I wait for my mom to tell me when to go and when she yells, “Now!” I go as fast as I can. She always seems to know exactly how to time it. I wonder how she knows.