Is There Anything Better Than Playing at the Pool?
Grace León | Writer
This summer, I occupied the same Bethlehem pool twice a week. I watched kids swimming with new-age names. Names like Townes and Arcadia, which I only knew because their mom yelled at them every time they pushed, which was often.
They played make-believe games, tricking each other into jumping in the pool. The older ones in a knowing bit, the younger ones coated in naivety and sunscreen.
They followed their older brother and his friend around like gods. Clinging to their palm-leaf-splattered swim trunks, waddling behind in floaties. The things made them stand like snowmen, stiff and arms wide out while wearing goofy grins.
I watched them cut through water unceremoniously, without shame or thought. Their little heads bobbing up and down like buoys with perfect corn-husk-colored ringlets.
The pool sparkled like ten thousand sardines, silver and aqua on either side. I watched them flop over and under each other, wriggling into sparkles of mist. Smooth and cool like the flaky inside of seashells.
It reminded me of the fish hatcheries my dad used to take me to when I was younger. I would watch those fish flip on and off of each other, peeking up into the air occasionally when you threw two quarters’ worth of pebblish, smelly food.
What I would give to like anything as much as those fish liked that food? I wonder now if there’s anything better than playing at the pool.
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