pool.
“Is that Grandma?”
“Yes. When she was thirty-five.”
I was stunned. She looked so much like me that, for a moment, I thought I was staring at an old photograph of myself.
“Your grandmother spent years being ashamed of her body,” Grandpa said. “Every summer, she promised that the following year, she’d finally swim with me. But she always found a reason to postpone it.”
His voice trembled.
“And when she became ill, she told me something I’ve never forgotten. She said, ‘George, I spent so much time worrying about what other people thought of my body that I forgot to live.’”
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I stared silently at the photograph.
“But why did you bring me here today?”
Grandpa suddenly picked up his phone.
“There’s something else I want you to see.”
A video appeared on the screen. It was me, about six years old.