The transformation is complete.

I am officially my mother and father. Working on a tan as if I never had skin cancer.

I’m outside by a pool, eating fruit, blasting Elvis Presley, and forgetting I have a woe in the world.

I walk into a pool, hands on hips, not interested in getting my hair wet. I lean against the edge and work on crossword puzzles.

What’s next on the playlist? Jerry Vale? Vic Damone? Frank Sinatra? Jackie Mason on Broadway? (That enduring image of my dad at the outdoor pool at the Catskills hotels, putting cassettes into a portable radio player and not sure if the volume was on is a mental painting I wish I could paint.)

It’s Labor Day in reverse. Giving birth to the soul and spirits of those that brought me to this moment.