Happiness. It's relative.
There is no one in the pool but the two of us, two friends in their seventies who’ve been swimming together for over forty years.
A young lifeguard with shaggy curly blond hair watches over us while we swim laps. Me swimming the freestyle one length and the breaststroke back as I have since we started swimming together when I had only one child and wasn’t married to anyone. And her swimming a mix of made-up strokes accommodating her wicked knees and shoulders. She has stamina, my friend, and could keep going beyond the hour we spend together, the two of us, in the public pool where the late afternoon sun shines through the windows and splays on the pool floor.
At the end of each lap, I rest, flapping my arms up and down like a bird settling, sinking below the water’s surface to see my friend’s legs swimming in a faraway lane.
We have told each other everything.
We are here and the water is still and clear until we break the surface with our beautiful old hands. The lifeguard watches us and then looks at his watch. We are all mindful of the time.
Thanks Jan, the writing, the swimming, the value of long-time friends is wrapped up so well in “We are all mindful of the time.
what a lovely friendship and ritual, shared by the two of you
It really is – amazing how much time has passed and we’re still swimming
Lovely description of an intimate friendship and the feel of the water. I so enjoy your writing. Missing you at line dancing
I’m thinking about coming back this coming week – but it’s really hard!!
Yes, this is a fun experience. There have been times in the afternoon like this when I have been the only one in the pool, Pulaski in my case. So yes, you feel a little guilty as you come out of the locker room, and two lifeguards have to come out of the office to take their posts to guard you. But it’s OK to be the center of attention occasionally.
So true. I wish more people would be there and I don’t wish more people would be there. You know what I mean?