Swimming, swimming

My wife and I met in a swimming pool. We’ve both been around water most of our lives and are good swimmers. My mother—whose age I won’t reveal, but who remembers summering near Boston and having to pull the blackout curtains at night because Nazis—swims almost every day, and puts in some serious distance.

PalKid is into mermaids.  I think it’s not just mermaids, but being in the water in general. She’s a little fish.  Last night we were swimming and she didn’t have her goggles. For the first time, she started swimming with her eyes open underwater. It was a revelation.

We live surrounded by water, and spend much of our leisure time on lake shores, so one of the first things we did with PalKid was teach her to swim. I think she was three at the time. I remember being taken to the Y or the Jewish Center (I’m not sure which) and being tossed into the cold water and told to swim. At least, that’s my version.  We took PalKid to a place where the air temperature is about 90, or about 2 degrees cooler than the pool water. As she’s grown, she retained some of her fears (“Daddy, how deep is it here?” “It’s over four feet; any more doesn’t matter”) but just about enough to be safe.  When I watch her swim it’s like she was born to it.

While I don’t love this summer’s heat, it’s kept us in the water every free moment, as a family.  That’s worth a little sweat.

 

 

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1 Comment

  1. Karen

     /  July 24, 2012

    Three words: sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen.

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