Let Me Remember for You
So, I have this memory. You were there, too; but don’t worry if you don’t remember. I can remember for you.
It’s a hot, breeze-less summer day in 1971, and Hatzic Lake is lukewarm and the color of milky coffee that’s been left on the counter all morning. Motorboats tear across the water, yanking water-skiers across the surface of the lake, filling the air with a sound like a swarm of angry wasps. You are chest deep in the water, with your feet braced in the soft, muddy lake…