First weekend of pool season. The sun is out, hot enough that everything feels slow.
I’d already been out all morning—errands, driving, sweating through the stops. I didn’t want to go back out. Definitely didn’t want to go to the pool.
But Luca asked.
He had that hopeful, edge-of-disappointment look already settling in when I paused. Because yesterday I’d said no.
And I thought: Which one will he remember?
Will it be yesterday—when I didn’t go, didn’t want to, didn’t push through?
Or will it be today—when I did?
I don’t know. I won’t know. Not for another twenty years, maybe longer.
But today, we went.
