In the depths of my memory, many things I did with my father still live. These things have come to represent, in fact, what I call     and love.
    I don’t remember my father ever getting into a swimming pool. But he did      the water. Any kind of      ride seemed to give him pleasure.        he loved to fish; sometimes he took me along.
    But I never really liked being on the water, the way my father did. I liked being     the water, moving through it,        it all around me. I was not a strong     , or one who learned to swim early, for I had my       . But I loved being in the swimming pool close to my fathers’ office and      those summer days with my father, who      come by on a break. I needed him to see what I could do. My father would stand there in his suit, the      person not in swimsuit.