I suppose sometime I will grow old, with happiness. Holding my breath, as I do in burning cold water, I dive to the bottom, sometimes stopping, sometimes swimming, sometimes treading water, or simply moving my hands back and forth, only to keep still, forever curious about something swimming by a sea scallop, an angelfish, a broken shell caught by the light of the sun, a rainbow on a bottomless ocean floor, laying just beyond my grasp, moving further and further away with every rolling wave. MaryAnn Burrows
