When I was 13 and my sister 15, we were synchronized swimmers. We had to travel downtown by bus three times a week to practice for two hours. As a result, we perpetually had green hair and red eyes. Before practice, we sat at opposite ends of the YWCA lunch counter and ate grilled cheese sandwiches and tapioca with whipped cream while sipping cherry sodas. I started my first swimming day period between the pudding and the pool. My sister tossed me a Tampon, which I had never used, and told me to “stick it in,” which I did before starting to swim laps. Fifty meters later, I climbed out of the pool and duck-walked to the restroom. I had plugged the wrong hole.
© 2017 Carol Hummel