The apartment complex we live in now has an outdoor pool. My entire life I’ve never had daily access to a pool all summer. Since we moved in, I have been swimming in it a grand total of — once. My husband even less.
The child in me, the one who spent summers swimming in leach-infested watering holes while dodging the cow pies (and sometimes the cattle) would have stayed in that beautiful blue water safe from blood-sucking worms until her skin shriveled to the level of morel mushrooms and she sweated chlorine for days afterwards. The teenager would have filleted herself out along the neat rows of lounge chairs with a bottle of Johnson’s baby oil by her side, and the college student would surely be night swimming with friends and beer.
Maybe it’s the cold-bloodedness of my age that shrinks from unheated pool water, or the lazy afternoon view of beautiful young things with their pounding music and flawless flesh that makes me avert my eyes on the way to our mailbox. But I will go back under stealth of night if I have to, before Labor Day comes and summer truly ends.
Because there is always the hot tub.
This month I’m taking a photo a day and following the topics of Susannah Conway’s August Break 2014. And why don’t you join me? I double-dog dare you!