Like us, Biscayne Bay could forget a violent storm in an instant. We swam through smooth water, hidden up to our necks, buoyed inside the happy silence that follows great physical exertion. In my memory, that summer is a suspension bridge over the water, connecting the worlds of childhood and adulthood. We three were not amnesiacs, as it turns out, and neither is the ocean; the damage we sustain lives on inside us. So does this memory: the bridge to a blue expanse of dreaming time that girls deserve, and not only for a summer.

Source: New York Times June 01, 2019 09:00 UTC