Swimming pool - now and then

We belong to a local pool. It is the de facto pool for lots of people from our town, which does not have its own pool. The pool belongs to a local school and is accessible only by alumni or staff of that school. My partner qualifies under both rules.

We joined when the kids were not yet three. I love it there. It is surrounded by trees. The picnic tables are outside the swim area. You can grill or drink wine. The restrooms are spartan. Only the necessities. No music, no concession stand. It's always quiet aside from the voices of children in the pool or playing tether ball. Generation after generation on the swim team. Refreshing clear pool. I love it here.

Each moment is restful. A mini-vacation. My kids complain when we're there too long. They don't understand how good they've got it. I grew up in my younger childhood in the city, on concrete; some weekends at a faraway lake. Later, in childhood, living next to the woods, we escaped but not to a watering hole; only the cool of the thick-over-head trees.

I had no place to swim aside from a pool of an old neighbor who let some, selected carefully (by him) kids into his small above-ground pool, long outgrown by his own kids. He just asked that we cleaned it and kept the noise down. I passed the test. My siblings did not. We could keep cool and I even learned to dive. Old Mr. G., a World War II, disabled vet encouraged the kids to dive and to swim. Three or four stokes across. Each afternoon for about 15 minutes, Mr. G. would come in. It let him move as a younger man, he said, but made him tired too.

We chosen-few could sit and sun and read on top of his small, storage shed. It was covered in concrete, unforgiving of human flesh. Luckily, we were young, and could contentedly read for hours on our towels, the pop music station playing very low. I loved Mr. G.'s small pool and his small, well kept yard. It was my childhood oasis. My kids just haven't a clue.

Our pool is heaven. I mean it. It's better than I could've ever hoped for in my distant childhood world. I love each moment our pool. Even more than Mr. G.'s. It's a mini-retreat. A small respite. I love it.