Eighty-four degrees, an impossibly blue sky, sun-dappled trees; ideal conditions for closing the pool. This morning the sign was posted declaring it officially off-limits, verboten.
There, at the padlocked gate, I felt like crying. Like uncorking a downpour of big, fat, chlorinated tears. Tomorrow they’ll drain the water and install the pool cover, the burial shroud. I won’t watch, I’ll be home with the shades drawn, an abiding sadness in my heart.
You see, I’m a swimmer and a pool is where I’m happiest. From the time I was a toddler, I’ve spent my summers in the water. It’s my element, my métier. A pool is where I belong. Much more so than on dry land, where I get tripped up by gravity and equilibrium. In water, I discover gracefulness and ease, traits that remain elusive on cold, hard ground. And now that magical place is shuttered to me.
I’m left feeling as if my parole was revoked. No more happy, carefree times. It’s back to the big house and orange jumpsuits and stoolies. Orange is not a good color for me and I won’t like stoolies, either. Or prison food. But I saw The Shawshank Redemption, I know how to dig a tunnel, too.
Copyright © Publikworks 2011.
the whirly girl 
6 responses to “: there’s always the typing pool :”
I can empathize with you completely =(
Too bad heated indoor pools aren’t half as much fun : P
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I know. Why is that?
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Another sign that the seasons are changing and the leaves are falling. Is there a YMCA near you? Perhaps with an indoor pool? Maybe your parole officer could hook you up!
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lol! Thanks for the tip, I’ll ask at my next appointment.
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Oh my, this sounds like a serious case of end-summer-crisis. Mayhaps we should launch the emergency protocol. *handsoverchocolateandsomeicecream* Now I would like you to think about all the awesome things that are about to hit us. Let’s just start with Thanksgiving and Halloween and later on the best time of the year – christmas. Sure, our weather will be nasty, cold, wet, stormy and grey, buuut just think about a warm, cozy room, candle light, maybe even a fireplace. That is the best time for your inspiration, it’s the traditional time for fairytales and other creative activities. You’ll have lots of time and muse to write the most amazing stories when the rain is knocking on your windows and the wind is howling around the housecorners. And well, there will be always a next summer, right? =)
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Yes, there will, Min, and it’s only eight months away. And winter is a breeze right up through the new year. After that, though, it’s January and February — ew. Thanks for the words of encouragement.
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