Poolside

It was a lovely day to swim in the pool. When I arrived there this morning, the water was glassy, the chairs empty. I was the only one there, and drifted in the perfectly clear, perfect temperature water for some relaxing minutes, enjoying my private reverie. Then I began to long for the click of the gate, and friendly footsteps of family bringing fried chicken, potato salad, a little red headed girl. I was lonely for laughter, and music, and silly splashy pool games. The empty chairs held the promise of a glorious afternoon, but no one was expected and no one came. I ate Collette's stale goldfish quietly and drank my iced tea, knitting,  remembering family days this summer. We had many of them, each one filled to the brim with the things that make life so wonderful, the joys of loving and being loved. I imagined them back to life, and was restored by the memories. Our lives, so close, so far, moving so fast, taking the time to slow down. Each goldfish cracker was a testament to car rides and bike rides and walks to the park. Each empty pool chair held a wet towel, swimmies, mommy and little girl shoes. I looked up at the clouds and felt the sun, and heard the laughter, and loved the life I am in. So full, so loved, so blessed.