On the front porch, I watch the puddles grow from foot sized bowls to meter long lakes beside the front walk. On the front porch, I watch cars slowly pass by, the hiss of their tires sounding so much like the sounds my kids make when they use the Slip and Slide in the back yard. I’ve only been on it once, and I hated it, but the kids love it. Once, after watching them laugh and race across the yellow slippery surface, they talked me into going on it one hot summer day, and I had run at it and dove like I was a sprinter crossing a finish line. I went too fast, my weight and size pushing me too quickly as I slid off the end of the yellow plastic, across the wet lawn and onto the driveway, losing a lot of my chest skin as I skid across the hot pavement. That was the last time I used the Slip and Slide. I remember how the front of me looked like beef jerky like it was yesterday

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