The last bit of summer vacation is pressing in on us, and it has largely become this: the frantic run from pool to platform on repeat, a near maddening loop of frenzied obsession, the intense need to squeeze in as much flight, falling, plunge and ascension as possible before the school bell once more rings. He is reborn over and over again in an unrealized effort to slow the sinking of the sun. It is both beautiful and somehow tragic in its simple impossibility; it is all at once the sweetness of youth and his slipping grasp on it. My heart swells and tightens as I watch him hurry to soar and float once more. I feel him breathing life inexplicably into me as he powers through his, and I realize that I love the bittersweet pulse of this life.