lake chesapeake

words by Melanie C., art by Ellie Nystrom

for you, with nothing but love

our parents have been drowning since childhood

thrown off a sinking ship at sea

blindly thrashing in the water

watching their family sink or swim

upon reaching land, they kept us from the sea

bought us inflatable rafts

taught us how to swim

one stroke at a time, one arm in front of the other

but you’ve been drowning too

you can swim and you can float but

the bay drags your feet down to its deathly bed

you’re so tired of treading water even though you can see the shoreline before you

you imagine our parents tell you

just swim like we taught you how

you’re not even a mile away from the lake’s shore

freshwater is easy, come back when the saltwater burns your eyes and your throat like it did ours

but they don’t realize that they’ve bequeathed you salt,

leaving you floundering in an estuary as the brackish water fills your nose and stings your eyes,

your white face blending in with the bed stones

you extend your arms not to our parents but to me

the water clings to your arms and pulls you down, but you manage to grab ahold of my ankle

i can pull us out! i’m your one connection to land

but the bay is beginning to claim you

and we seem to be morphing into one

the bay is filled with so many unknowns, so many creatures

i wonder what our parents would say if they knew the creatures we’ve become

you tell me you can hear our aunt from her brackish bed,

whispering to herself about the dangers of land creatures,

her tentacles shivering with the water

i’ve been thinking a lot about ariel

the little mermaid who begged, who traded her voice for a chance on land,

for a chance to be with her prince

i wonder if that’s how you feel

like you would do anything, give anything

to be with her

sometimes i imagine our parents toss you a floatie

or send a sailboat to find you

or rev up their motorboat

and scoop you into their arms,

wrap you in a towel and whisper lovely nothings that mean everything

but today, they panic at the muddy banks,

tugging at me—one foot on land, the other fin grasped by your flippers—as they try to fish you 

out