A Swim.

Most would find the humid air and blindingly strong smell of an indoor pool to be a place of disdain and discomfort, but for me, it is home. Recalling my pool back home, I picture the cold, bright locker room and I am there, opening the heavy door to see the deck that awaits me beyond its threshold. As I walk across the soaked tile floor, my feet grip for some sort of non-existent traction. I reach the edge of the ninety-eight degree water and come to a foot wide stretch of grated floor used to drain the excess water from the pool deck. Without a second thought, I fasten my goggles around my skull and dive into the questionable water. I remember the children I saw each day, taking swim lessons or joining their friends for day camp. Some would cry, filling the small greenhouse-like room with their screams of anger and sadness. Young girls and boys would yell for their mothers, begging to be saved from the horrors of the water. Some children would scream until placed on the hip of an unhappy lifeguard feigning a smile for a worried parent’s benefit. My time to experience the water was long after the children had gone home for the day. All that was left was the remnants of the young’ns, a forgotten superhero towel, or the occasional pair of goggles. As I swam, I could feel the water push against my muscles, creating a resistance as my legs propelled me towards the edge. Occasionally, I would mistake a stroke and strike the edge of the lane rope, which kept my body in line. The sharp pain of the floating plastic rings was a quick reminder to the necessity of focus. Continuing along down the twenty-five yards of pool, I reached the wall. Immediately and artfully performing a underwater somersault; I changed my direction back towards the dreaded locker rooms. While the incessant heat of the pool deck could quickly get to the mind of a bored lifeguard on duty, the startling cold of the locker rooms remained much worse a sensation. For lifeguards would often fall subject to the heat and calm of the deck and find themselves drifting off to the sleep instead of actively scanning the area for trouble, only to take their breaks in the cold near the lockers. I climbed out of the pool to see a familiar face manning the pool deck, with a sharp nod of recognition I grabbed my small, gym-provided towel and made my way towards the door of the dreaded meat locker, saying a goodbye to my humid home once more.