Swimming Part 1

My Mom told me that before I could walk I loved playing in the water. The story goes, on my first family vacation she sat for hours in her beach chair, at the shore, holding my hands so I could jump up and down in the water. As I grew so did my love of the water. At Girl Scout camp I was always the first one into my swim suit and lined up for the pool. In high school when I had knee surgery and had a year of swimming during gym for PT there were no complaints. And in college I when I tried to squeeze in some exercise I'd swim a few laps, in between classes and experiments.

Then life dealt me the "NO SWIMMING" card. Oh sure, we had the prerequired paddling pool in the backyard. You know the one that looks olympic sized in the store. However, once set up and filled in the backyard, shrinks to the size of a thimble.

And when my oldest lovely was big enough for swimming lessons at the town lake, the second lovely was a mere few weeks old. My time was spent sitting on a shaded bench making sure one didn't drowned while the other slept in her car seat or stroller.

And when the third lovely came along I was twice busy watching my eldest fish dive and swim, and convincing the wader not to test all the theories concerning near drowning, all the while holding the wee one in my arms. Still no swimming for me.

This past summer, all my lovelies swimming, with our without a bubble, I entered the water, just for me, once again. There is a such a sense of freedom when I'm gliding through the water. The laps quickly float by as I dwell on the sound of my breathing, the way my hands push through the water, the fact that I could be kicking more, my writing, what we'll have for dinner, how it is easier to swim in cooler water, and of course the girls.

At the beginning of the summer, the girls played together in the shallow end of the local neighborhood pool, waiting for me to finish so I could take the little ones into the deep end. They were becoming as much of a fish as their older sister.

As the summer heated up an amazing thing happened; the lovelies started swimming laps with me. First the oldest. On many occasions she stayed with me for a half of a mile of more. At the lap ends, when I would check on the wee ones, I'd proudly watch my partner take the turn and start her next lap. Like most things she does, she's a very good swimmer. Her stroke is smooth and steady, as she seems to cuts effortlessly through the water.

Then the little ones started their own type of laps, always wanting to race, always winning and always laughing and smiling when they touch the wall before me.

And now that Fall is here, and the pool is closed, I find myself dreaming of the next pool season when we will once again swim in our own family school.