Swim, Cap, Elated

3 things to inspire 1 story written in 20 minutes. #story320
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With the amount of swim lessons I’ve had I should be the next Michael Phelps. At most, I’m the Phelps of the doggie paddle: No swimming cap required.

My father, who had never actually seen me swim, enrolled me in some sort of race. He assumed I was achieving at the same level of his hopes, dreams and expectations. I was not. He would not be elated, though he never was.

Once I had set the dinner table without asking because for once I was going to have dinner with my father. The maid told him my 6-year-old contribution and the most I got out of him was a raise of the eyebrows and a downturn of his cheeks.

When he shows up the race and watches me splash around between floating plastic ropes, the most he’ll do is look around and then leave. Because he more than likely expects nothing of me so my poor performance will have met his expectations but not exceeded his dreams for me.