100 Words/2. Swimming in the Kitchen

I learned to swim in my kitchen.  My family lived in one of the Ocean Zones, and so there was always at least three feet of water in the house.  We had to wear boots—always.  I don’t ever remember not having my galoshes on when I was home.  One night when I was five, my father stood up from the dinner table, put me in his arms, and held me while I floated around the room.  “It’s important to swim,” he said, “Nowadays, it’s just like breathing.”  And we circled the room while my mother finished her pork chops.