Postcards from the pool
I went swimming the other day. Technically, I went standing because I stood around in the water more than I swam. I love hanging out by the pool, near the pool, and in the pool. It’s my happy place.
Every year, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, I keep a swimsuit, a towel, and a pair of sandals in my car for emergency swimming opportunities. You never know when someone will say, “We have a pool, and you should come swim in it.”
I went to my local community pool after work because it’s open until 8 on most weeknights. Once I got there, I heard over the loudspeaker a call for a “water break.” At my local pool, for 10 minutes every hour, they have an adult swim where you can bop around uninterrupted. For 10 minutes, I don’t get splashed or kicked in the groin by some wayward child who doesn’t understand personal space. Children line the pool’s edges – some waiting more patiently than others – for the adult swim to end.
Side note: When the water break ends, you want to be out of the water or deep in the middle of the pool, or a kid will try to jump over your head. I learned this lesson the hard way when I was frog-legged in the face.
But I digress, like I do. In my moments of Zen, bopping around peacefully, I noticed some things.
The alphas start young. There was always a lead girl or boy in every group. As soon as they can walk and talk, you’re doing what Aubrey or Zacharia want to do, or you’re sitting on the towel eating Goldfish crackers and drinking from a juice box, scowling.
It’s fascinating that the kids can jump into the water, get back out, and jump in again endlessly. It takes me 20 minutes to get into the water. I creep in slowly, inch by inch, shivering and silently cursing the entire time. I always look over and think, “That kid has been in and out 17 times, and I’m only in up to my knees.”
Yesterday, I thought I heard a girl being murdered. It turns out someone just splashed her. There’s always one girl whose screams of joy sound like screams of terror.
There’s always a kid who climbs to the top of the slide, chickens out, and has to walk back down. It’s OK, kid. You’ll conquer that slide next time.
I always find two things in the pool: a bumblebee struggling to get out of the water and a Band-Aid. You don’t want to touch either of them.
One summer, I rescued a bee from the water, and she stung me.
P.S. Did you know that male bees don’t have stingers?
Even though it’s the beginning of August, I know my pool days are ending. I wistfully count my blessings despite being splashed, kicked, or stung.
Get out and enjoy your summer. It will be over before you know it.