water

went for a swim a couple of nights ago at bartholomew park.
i arrived in a speedo racerback swim suit with goggles and a swim cap in hand, walked around the perimeter of the pool to the lanes they have roped off for lap swimming.

there was anarchy in the rest of the pool.

mostly black and brown children from ages five to fourteen, jumping and splashing, yelling in spanish and english. laughing in the bright blue water as the daylight waned. most congregated in the shallow end. each time i ended my lap on that side of the pool, a chubby mexican boy asked me if i could retrieve a small green ball his friends had thrown over his head and in to the lap lane.

the first time i obliged.
the second time i obliged with a look of exasperation on my face (he was ruining my stride!).
the third time, he said, "it's not my fault."
"i know, sweetie."
and then i witnessed the culprit throw the ball far above and beyond his head!
i told her that she was not supposed to throw anything into the lap lane.
then one of the life guards reprimanded the boy for venturing to the second lap lane (not the one i was in) to retrieve the ball.
"see?" i told the girl. "you got him in trouble." and i returned to my swim, wondering when i became such a cranky old lady.

i wasn't always this way.

every summer that i remember of my childhood, my mom used to enroll me and my sister (my brother, too?) in swimming lessons at siemon park. i think that she wanted us to conquer her fear of the water. and i think she wanted to get us out of her hair for part of those long summer days.

we happily obliged. all of the swim lesson kids would line up outside of the pool and be forced to walk through a corridor of cold water-spouting shower heads before each lesson. the instructors told us it was for us to become accustomed to the cold water so that we'd be more apt to jump into the pool. some of us would sprint through the showers to avoid the shock of cold water. others would creep along the sides of the corridor, carefully avoiding the water. if we weren't wet enough, the teachers would make us go through again.

other than the initial shock of cold water, the swimming lessons were great. i loved being in the water during the brutally hot summers in bakersfield. and my mother was right to assume that it would make me comfortable in the water.

to this day, i love the water. i love the feeling of weightlessness gliding through a swim. i love the silence under water, the peacefulness. being able to focus on the most basic things--my breath, my thoughts.

i see those kids at bartholomew pool, and i remember those summer days that were filled with sun and water. and think that someday those kids will be remembering the same things.

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