I arrive at the pool just after 7 p.m. The rain has subsided, and the clouds are thinning enough to let the fading sunlight color the trees yellow.
I hear intermittent splashing and only a few voices coming from the water beyond the bathhouse.
"You look nice tonight," the lifeguard says as I pass the front counter.
"Oh, thanks," I reply. "I guess I never changed after church."
Around the corner, I find my family, all soaked and bobbing in the 4-foot-deep portion near the water slide.
My Lili is freckled and brown, her slick, chocolate hair forming a shining cape around her shoulders when she emerges from the water. Calvin is freckled, too, and his eyes flash golden when he smiles up at me. Henry is too big now -- all legs and arms with only traces of baby fat in his cheeks and elbows.
I adore them.
"How is everybody doing?" I ask, welcoming a recap of the evening I'd missed.
Henry is the first to give his report.
"Mama! I goed off the diving board!"
"No you didn't!" I say in mock chiding.
"I did! Watch me do it."
Henry slaps elbows and knees up from the pool and onto the cement and coaxes his Papa to meet him in the diving well, where Henry plans to show me just how awesome he has become.
Meanwhile, Calvin is watching my eyes, waiting for them to find him on the other side of the pool. Goggles are in position, and when he sees that I am paying full attention, he glides away from the wall and dips beneath the surface. He pops up for air, then proceeds to perform a perfect breast stroke for the entire length of the pool.
This is the first time I've seen him swim the full 25 meters. I march to the other side of the pool to greet him with appropriate praise and high fives.
Henry has climbed the ladder now and is shuffling to the end of the springboard. I can't believe Nick has managed to give our three-year-old enough confidence to try this.
Before I can fathom it, Henry plunges into the pool, where his Papa deftly scoops him out of the water and ferries him to the side of the pool.
He is unbelievably proud of himself. I'm proud of him, too.
The lifeguards blow their whistles in a simultaneous signal for the adult-swim break and it's our time to go home. I wrap already-damp towels around dripping shoulders and locate Crocs and flip-flops.
As we shuffle to the parking lot, Nick reminds Lili that she has some news of her own.
"Oh! I made divisionals," she reports with tempered enthusiasm.
"No way. In what events?"
"Freestyle and breaststroke."
"Your two favorites! Congratulations!"
I am in awe of her. In her first season of swim team, she has learned four strokes, competed in every single meet and sheared seconds off all of her race times. It's astounding to me.
I breathe in deep this moment and make a wish never to leave it. I know full well, however, that summer is already creeping to a close with or without my permission.
I hear intermittent splashing and only a few voices coming from the water beyond the bathhouse.
"You look nice tonight," the lifeguard says as I pass the front counter.
"Oh, thanks," I reply. "I guess I never changed after church."
Around the corner, I find my family, all soaked and bobbing in the 4-foot-deep portion near the water slide.
My Lili is freckled and brown, her slick, chocolate hair forming a shining cape around her shoulders when she emerges from the water. Calvin is freckled, too, and his eyes flash golden when he smiles up at me. Henry is too big now -- all legs and arms with only traces of baby fat in his cheeks and elbows.
I adore them.
"How is everybody doing?" I ask, welcoming a recap of the evening I'd missed.
Henry is the first to give his report.
"Mama! I goed off the diving board!"
"No you didn't!" I say in mock chiding.
"I did! Watch me do it."
Henry slaps elbows and knees up from the pool and onto the cement and coaxes his Papa to meet him in the diving well, where Henry plans to show me just how awesome he has become.
Meanwhile, Calvin is watching my eyes, waiting for them to find him on the other side of the pool. Goggles are in position, and when he sees that I am paying full attention, he glides away from the wall and dips beneath the surface. He pops up for air, then proceeds to perform a perfect breast stroke for the entire length of the pool.
This is the first time I've seen him swim the full 25 meters. I march to the other side of the pool to greet him with appropriate praise and high fives.
Henry has climbed the ladder now and is shuffling to the end of the springboard. I can't believe Nick has managed to give our three-year-old enough confidence to try this.
Before I can fathom it, Henry plunges into the pool, where his Papa deftly scoops him out of the water and ferries him to the side of the pool.
He is unbelievably proud of himself. I'm proud of him, too.
The lifeguards blow their whistles in a simultaneous signal for the adult-swim break and it's our time to go home. I wrap already-damp towels around dripping shoulders and locate Crocs and flip-flops.
As we shuffle to the parking lot, Nick reminds Lili that she has some news of her own.
"Oh! I made divisionals," she reports with tempered enthusiasm.
"No way. In what events?"
"Freestyle and breaststroke."
"Your two favorites! Congratulations!"
I am in awe of her. In her first season of swim team, she has learned four strokes, competed in every single meet and sheared seconds off all of her race times. It's astounding to me.
I breathe in deep this moment and make a wish never to leave it. I know full well, however, that summer is already creeping to a close with or without my permission.
What an awesome day! To think all of the kids have made such progress this summer as swimmers! Calvin will be ready for swim team next year, too. Send my congratulations to each of them along with a big hug and kisses.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and commenting! I will pass along the appropriate congratulations. :)
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