Dad talks with another landowner about the reflecting pool’s rising a number of inches to near the top of the pool. He tells him he plans to sell it once it’s rose to its peak. They both agree to this as sensible, both planning to do it as a studied matter of course.
Dad dives into the iced-over lake/pool. I wonder “won’t this hurt his body, especially his heart with its condition? How can he even swim amid the ice?”
I myself can barely move, kneeled down in an iced-over love-seat recess embedded in the pool’s edge.
Then my weight breaks the ice open: it splits down the center of the lake, right where dad is swimming.
I stay kneeling in shock, unable to move. Eventually, I start scooping out watery snow around my knees; I’m almost clear; still, I can’t move my legs; I’m so tired; I was tired even before the ice broke.
Then, Dad yells for my help from the icy center. I worry at the moral dilemma of trying to save him. I don’t have to — the risk; besides, I can’t even move, and I’m so tired.