There’s a memory I have. Something I’ll take out now and again and hold up to the...

There’s a memory I have.  Something I’ll take out now and again and hold up to the light.  There’s me and Rita and the kids on our way to the Grand Canyon.  We stopped for a couple nights at this travel lodge.  I remember being out by the pool and watching Cara do backflips, slipping under the water.  Rita would lay next to me and feed me drinks and we’d get quietly drunk.  The way I remember it, the water is blue and green and not quite right, and the kids’ lips are turning purple and their skin is all gooseflesh.  Everyone was happy then and I was a hero for finding this place.  It’s a good memory and it’s taken me a long time to allow myself its comfort.  I have done evil.  I know that now.  But we are not who we were, nor have we arrived at who we will be.  This is what I’ve learned to believe.  This is what I must believe to continue.