Breathing Lesson

One summer, playing Over or Under in the ocean
with my daughter, I grabbed her by the waist, 
back to an incoming wave, and lifted. 
Her body blocked the sunlight as I threw her 
over the breaker, before it broke and pulled me 
under, her face splashed with laughter, arms 
flailing above me. Hold your breath, I shouted. 
The last thing I saw was my father’s face. 
I looked down at him as he threw me over a wave.
Then the wave at hand shoved me under. 
Before I knew what to think, I held my breath.