After I dive in I always try to touch the bottom before I resurface. And when I do—it’s weird—but I start looking around for you. Once, during the Fall when I was 18, we sat on my brothers pontoon drinking, dangling our feet in the near freezing water. The next day you left, but you called me when you were driving through Brown county to tell me you could have stayed forever if the leaves never stopped changing.
A few years later I saw you at Nick’s on Kirkwood. You invited me to Sink the Biz and then I walked you back to your dorm to wish you good night. On the way home I finally decided it was better that the leaves stopped changing.