His was an unconventional path to parenthood, to say the least.[12] It is not by birth or adoption that I consider this man to be my father; it isn’t even through his presence in my childhood. It is rather by sheer good luck on my part. Before he made that generous offer, I felt as though I had lost my mooring[13] and the waters were flooding in; afterward, I simply felt rescued. If my mother had taught me to be strong and depend on myself, Mike imparted his own lesson―that the world will provide for you, even when you least expect it.
Eight years after Mike stepped forward, he walked me down the aisle[14]. Four years after that, I gave birth to his first granddaughter, Emily Michl Simonson. (Mike’s legal name is Michl.) The name is a reminder of my saved past and a promise for the future, and I hope one day Emily will see that as well. Because as much as I plan to teach her to swim (indeed, she’s now six and enrolled in lessons), I also want her to know this: No matter how fast the waters rise, no matter how hard it may be to keep her head above the waves, someone will throw her a line.
小时候,我经常爬树、不戴头盔骑自行车、进行公路旅行时整日坐在自家车的后座上像超级球一样蹦来蹦去,从来不系安全带。这些活动对生活在20世纪80年代的孩子来说很普遍,但是在如今这简直就是不要命了。
但是,我母亲在有些事情上过于担心我的安全,比如上游泳课。母亲不会游泳,而且她其实很怕水,于是年复一年,她都强迫我在我们爱荷华市的当地游泳池学习游泳。
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