the swimmin' hole

One of the first things that I did after arriving in Whitesburg was to purchase a season pass to the town pool. I figured out that, if I went nine times this summer, I would have earned my pass and every time after that would make it cheaper.

One reason I've enjoyed this activity so much is that it's fun to watch the kids interacting in their social groups. I've watched different kids who are always there (the pool makes a good babysitter, for sure), as they represent different phases of my life.

The two and three-year-olds, who are both excited and scared to death by the big, blue, cement pond.

The seven-year-olds, as they run fearlessly off the diving board over and over again, so slight that they hardly make the board bend when they pounce on it or make a splash when they enter the water.

The twelve-year-olds who are starting to notice boys but are still very into handstands and how long you can hold your breath.

The teenagers who have lost interest in swimming for the most part, except when being thrown into the pool by their boy-crushes.

I sat half in the shade, half trying to tan my helpless legs one Saturday, and watched a group of teenage boys, five or six of them who, no kidding, all had on the exact same swim trunks in a rainbow of different colors. I could almost imagine them going shopping together and arguing..."No way, man, you know I'm always orange!" I guess guys don't really act that way, huh?

Anyway, yesterday, when I came back to the pool after my long thunderboomer/god-fearing absence, I was putting my stuff down in a corner and preparing for my swim. I'm currently putting Silly Putty in my ears every time I swim, like I did when I was three. Just before I got to the Silly Putty, though I realized, with my back turned to the pool, that the two girls nearest me were talking about me...

"You see that woman in the navy polka dot swimsuit?"
"Yeah."
"She comes here every day to get her workout."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she swims back and forth around the kids and when she's ready to cool down she jogs in the pool like this..."

I didn't turn around to see the action.; I just plugged up my ears and went on with my business. Later, I realized they were actually trying to imitate my "work out" at the other end.

And the whole time, I was thinking to myself...When did I become this person? I can so vividly remember, as if it were yesterday, spending six hours on a Sunday in a friend's pool as we carefully constructed an extravagant synchronized swimming/water ballet performance to "She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze.

And now, I'm the older woman that some little girl is trying to imitate?

Life is too bizarre.