It was a beautiful summer day. We were at our quaint little neighborhood. My sister was a little over one and I was eight. I was swimming with some girls while my mother conversed with theirs as mothers do. She turned her back away from my sister in her inner tube for only an instant. No one saw the little girl slip through the center of the floatation device. No one noticed her slow descent to the bottom of the three foot pool. Her vain attempt for oxygen went unseen. When my mother turned and realized what had become of her baby she pulled the child out of the water and checked for signs of life. The young girl's chest didn't rise and her soft, yet steady beating was absent. The C.P.R. began a frantic procedure to restore the warmth of life to the child's blue lips. The choking and crying of the girl were truly the most wonderful sounds to ever reach the ears of my mother and our family. The sirens greeted us a mere five minutes after the fact the ambulance came and whisked the my mother and her precious child away.