The Riddle of Summer Days

Evelyn stood by the garden fence, watching her grandson Marcus puzzle over the cracked stone sphinx she'd bought forty years ago. The statue's nose had chipped away, giving the ancient riddle-keeper a surprisingly gentle expression.

"What's the riddle, Grandma?" Marcus asked, tracing the weathered stone.

Evelyn smiled, remembering how her own children had asked the same question. "The sphinx asks: What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?"

She gestured toward the swimming pool beyond, where her daughter Catherine was teaching Marcus's little sister to float. The afternoon light caught the water's surface, creating dancing diamonds that flashed against the patio stones.

"A person," Catherine called from the pool, shaking wet hair from her eyes. "Baby, adult, and with a cane. That's what Grandpa always said."

Evelyn's chest tightened at the mention of Arthur. Five years gone, and still sometimes she reached for his hand in the morning. She remembered him, at seventy-five, insisting on his daily vitamin regimen with the same seriousness he'd once used to check the oil in their first car. "Can't fix everything," he'd say, popping the orange tablets into his palm, "but we can maintain what we've got."

Inside the house, the television droned—the cable news that had become her companion in quiet hours. She'd once complained about the monthly bill, but now those voices in the background made the house feel less empty. Arthur had always called it their "lifeline to the world." Now it was just her line.

Swimming had been Arthur's passion. Every morning, even through chemotherapy, he'd driven to the YWCA. The water didn't care about scars or weakness. In the pool, everyone was weightless.

Marcus snapped his fingers. "Morning, noon, evening! Life stages!"

"Exactly." Evelyn joined him by the sphinx. "The real riddle isn't the answer, Marcus. It's how quickly the time passes." She squeezed his shoulder, feeling the solid warmth of him—her legacy, swimming forward into a future she'd never see.

Catherine climbed from the pool, wrapped a towel around her daughter, and joined them. The three generations stood together as the afternoon deepened, the sphinx watching silently with its chipped, knowing smile.