The pool clock read 9:47 a.m. when Ben beat me in our final lap. It was our Saturday tradition: swim, race, then order an embarrassingly large serving of fries. My late wife, Claire, had started the tradition years ago, and we kept it after she disappeared in a boating accident.Two years earlier, Claire had been on a boat caught in a sudden storm. Two people survived, one body was recovered, but Claire was never found. Afterward, swimming became important to Ben because he said it was where he could still hear his mother telling him to breathe…. Continue Reading 🔽
