She walked into the pond. “Stop, Mutti,” I yelled as loud as I could, grabbing her gown. “We are sinking.” My feet sank into the slimy muck.

HEART ON ICE BY UTE CARSON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 87

We called the waterhole the duck pond even though there were no ducks. We children would splash at the pebbly waterfront but we were not allowed to swim. H…