Two Little Girls, Two Corners

I need water. And not in that normal need to survive, stay clean kind of way. I feel like I can't breathe here in all of the trees. No, no flashbacks to 'Splash', I'm not a mermaid. I just have this need to be near water and preferably in it.

You can blame my parents and by proxy Jackie's grand-parents for this little quirk of mine. Living at opposite ends of the street and corners we spent much of our young life together walking back and forth to eachoher's pools. Who could do the most laps underwater or the craziest leap were not just games - we were serious, records were meant to be won and held onto for as long as possible.


We'd run from pool to pool each day, each week our towels, rafts and pool toys ruffling behind us like soldiers gone to war. There was something about swimming to the point of exhaustion that you kept going knowing that inevitably one of our responsible adults would call us inside for something to eat. Sandwiches and chips at our house and oddly cucumbers in apple cider vinaigrette at Jackie's (of course we had ice cream too). Then it was back to business until we were called out of the pool for dinner. I particularly enjoyed the walk back home for dinner. The feeling of walking the hot pavement back and feeling the cold water of her pool evaporate off of me in that short distance that I'd have to jump into mine as soon as I got home, upsetting mom as she was expecting dry children as dinner guests.


Then there was the last swim of the evening when getting out of the water was colder than staying. Watching lightening blink around you and enjoying the solitary quiet of just you and the pool. How it felt to pull your fingers out of the water to watch it drip away and cool your hand. It was as if life and all of its' troubles were doing the same. The black sky seemed empty and yet comforting, like a blanket at night before bed that when you finally did make it to bed you felt as though you really did conquer the world. Sleep was deep and much needed and yet you woke each day ready to do the same thing again.


Somehow this was never lost on me. Places change, people move but water has always been a purifying aspect of my life. Surrounded by it the calm bold blue color is inviting. The smell of water (salt, spring, what have you) envelops you and welcomes you. You trade the pool toys and floats for real life worries and issues. That need to regain the sense of me and let everything else just float away presses on me like a weight.

Since then, it doesn't matter how much water there is, I need to be near it. In many ways it was about the friendship that grew or the miles walked (and that are still walked in dream) between the two houses letting the sun evaporate the water and the pavement warming our toes. It was also the weight of the world washing away each step, plunge or push into the pool. It was every care and worry evaporating clean out of your pores. In water you are weightless and all that mattered was not sinking to the bottom. And when all else failed you swam up for a gasp of air.