Choosing a Swimsuit
For Nancy Meylor Sinnwell
Flecks of turquoise, magenta and purple
stir from the bottom of a drawer
filled with functional white gym socks
and practical navy and black hose.
I tug out the old Bobby Brooks swimsuit
to consider its fate one more time.
But again, I fold the suit and stash it
in the back of the drawer where bits
of color splash up to beckon memory.
And I see you gape at me and laugh
in a pool in Hot Springs,South Dakota,
ten years ago on a family vacation.
We slip into warm bubbling water
together in our wild-hued swimsuits.
Two grown women, two sisters,
who see each other once a year,
who have bought the same gaudy pattern
in humdrum malls a thousand miles apart.
But we both know there are no great
mysteries in these choices, these colors.
Years of matching winter coats, hand-me-
down uniforms, Christmas nightgowns,
So I save this piece of nylon and Lycra
beneath the everyday layers of life
as a reminder of how we once dressed alike,
despite our desires to be different.
And how every once in awhile life dives
deep and splashes us with turquoise.