{"id":3460,"date":"2024-05-09T19:07:13","date_gmt":"2024-05-09T19:07:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.miamioh.edu\/oxmag\/?page_id=3460"},"modified":"2024-05-09T19:07:13","modified_gmt":"2024-05-09T19:07:13","slug":"leap-by-isaac-richards","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.miamioh.edu\/oxmag\/leap-by-isaac-richards\/","title":{"rendered":"“Leap” by Isaac Richards"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\tWhat matters is that she jumped in after him. \n\tIgnore the lemon tree. Ignore also the robotic pool vacuum exploring for leaves, like a Mars rover, with a hose floating behind it. \n\tWhat matters is that the boy\u2019s head disappeared, and his mother jumped in after him. \n\tThis was the day after Christmas, at an Anaheim Airbnb, right before Disneyland, at about 10:37a.m. But that doesn\u2019t matter. Nor does it matter that there were four boys\u2014ages seven, five, three, and two\u2014all of them hers. Also the grandmother, ready to film with her iPhone. And grandpa, in a lawn chair. Both her younger sisters, still virgins, each holding a writhing arm of the two youngest boys, yanking like ponies on the reins, whinnying, stamping their toes at the edge of the pool. I\u2019m in love with the redheaded sister, across the pool from me. But what matters is that the oldest boy, who knew how to swim, jumped in\u2014we all egged him on\u2014but he started to thrash and flounder and sink, so his mom jumped in after him. \n\tDid I mention that she was wearing fleece pajamas? We all were. Green and red checkered pants, t-shirts with Mickey Mouse dead center wearing a Santa Hat, and our names underneath in Disney swirl lettering. But what matters is that she jumped in after him. \n\tThose boys refused to wait, even though it was 56 degrees outside, and they hadn\u2019t paid the fee to warm the pool, and mom told them it would be cold, and that we should go to the beach instead, or wait until afternoon, but those boys refused to wait, and mom wanted to teach them a lesson, and said she\u2019d only let them get in the cold pool so they\u2019d learn to listen to their mommy, and just you watch it\u2019ll be freezing and you won\u2019t want to and I\u2019ll say I told you\u2026 but they were having fun, and they weren\u2019t cold, so fine go ahead and play if you want, and sure jump in if you want\u2014Jump in! Jump\u2014and then he jumped, and came up for a breath he was too stunned to take, came up unable to even gasp, then started choking and yelping and flailing for a few seconds with his head just above the water, and then his head slipped below the surface, and she jumped in after him, pajamas and all, while we watched dumbfounded, and that\u2019s what matters. \n\tGrandma was ready for the boy\u2019s cannonball and got the whole thing on video. Mom took one-step and then a simple leap with both legs. She went under and came right back up, catching the boy to her chest. She swam with one arm and making frog-leg kicks. It couldn\u2019t have been more than three strokes to where grandpa hoisted the boy out of her arms. She came out with her hair slicked back, glistening, and a calm grimace that broke into a smile. She wrapped the boy in a towel. Had a quiet little talk with him, whispering something stern and loving. Then she laughed with the rest of us, cotton shirt clinging to her breast, fleece pajama pants sagging around her hips. \n\tI don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever seen anything as beautiful as that. Did I mention that she hates water\u2014is terrified of water\u2014and would do anything to avoid water? Ever since, I\u2019ve been trying to figure out what made that moment so sacred. Like Eve taking the cold plunge with a bite of fruit. Jesus, wet with blood in an olive grove. This pool of Siloam, where my eyes were opened, this Bethesda, where the rest of us were paralyzed. All of it, some sort of baptism. There might be something to that. \n\tBut when I told my own mother, she didn\u2019t seem impressed. \n\t\u201cOf course she didn\u2019t hesitate,\u201d my mom replied. \n\tThe redheaded sister was equally unfazed. \n\t\u201cWe all were about to jump in,\u201d she stated. \n\tThat\u2019s when I realized this was not only about mother\u2019s love. Or primal instinct. Or a type of action faster than thought. Or about saving a life more ferociously than necessary. Because after it was over, the sun broke through the clouds, warm and cold: sending electric blue lines waving across the rippling pool, casting reflective glares off the dark wet splotches all over the patio, warming the lemons that waved on green branches.\n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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Isaac James Richards<\/strong> is a reader for Fourth Genre and a current Pushcart Prize nominee. His creative nonfiction has appeared in Inscape, Y-Magazine, and Wayfare, where he is a contributing editor. In the fall, he will begin a PhD program at the Pennsylvania State University. Find him online at https:\/\/www.isaacrichards.com\/<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
What matters is that she jumped in after him. Ignore the lemon tree. Ignore also the robotic pool vacuum exploring for leaves, like a Mars rover, with a hose floating behind it. What matters is that the boy\u2019s head disappeared, and his mother jumped in after him. This was the day after Christmas, at an … <\/p>\n
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