Me and my sister’s first summer at YMCA was one of envy. I remember how hot the days would get, and how badly I wanted to take to the pool and wash that noontime heat away. But I was scared, and my sister, being young than me, followed my lead, so we both remained grounded in the playground.

Memories of the pool followed me throughout the school year, washing through my mind until the day my sister and I arrived at our second year of summer camp. “It’s going to be a cool summer, sis,” I said, holding her hand, as we made our way towards the sounds of cannonballs and Marco-polo. I held her hand unknowingly if I was providing her with comfort, or whether she was providing me with courage.