Another Way to Look at Things
Here’s another way to look at things: you’re a four-year-old kid playing on the wet sand at Rockaway Beach, and an especially large wave comes crashing over you. You struggle to your feet after the wave has receded, but before you regain your balance, another wave comes down. When the third wave hits you’re on your back in two feet of salty water. After that the waves toss you up and suck you under, but your feet never touch sand again.
From far off in a strange world that only moments earlier was yours, you hear muffled laughter. Then, abruptly, your Uncle Richie appears out of nowhere, yanks you to the surface, wraps an arm around you and swims for shore.
You’re lying on a blanket on your back, and someone is pressing down on your chest. Salty water trickles out of your mouth, and turning your head to one side, you see from ground level the swelling gray waves.
For weeks after that you speak to no one, and every chance you get, you go off by yourself.
