May 16, 2016
My boys swim like a fish. My sons are mammals, so I'll correct myself by calling them dolphins. I should go jump in the pool with them. Who cares that I'm wearing a nice collar shirt and blue jeans. The hotel guests may complain that a fully clothed man just jumped in the pool. Wouldn't that be better than a fully grown man being naked who just jumped in the pool?
My kids are so damn skinny. I feed them so much, and yet they have zero body fat. Forget the fountain of youth. Maybe this is the pool where the sun's glare shimmies off the water, giving anyone in the pool a "weight loss appearance."
Those boys are the only ones in this very large pool and have no fear. As for me? When I was a kid, I wouldn't swim in such a large pool with minimal people out of fear that a shark (even in freshwater) might eat me. And even worse, if I went underwater, an invisible cover would prevent me from coming up for air, and I'd drown.
Laughter is the best medicine, and hearing my kids laugh while they are playing cheers me up. We live in a world where some people can't enjoy such relaxing moments. Their lives are filled with stress and worry, which prevents them from focusing on anything good. I have my moments, but I remain focused on those "dolphins" living it up in the pool. I let their laughter drown my sorrows, and the splashes from the water wash some of my worries away.
I may not be in that pool with them, but I know it is fun when I see it. The far-reaching splashes of water reached the pool decks and crashed onto the pavement. The water swashes back and forth between their entangled bodies while they wrestle for the best position on the pool stairs.
I'm so jealous that my kids can play so freely when I have to suppress my fears and anxiety so that my children can remain innocent and play so freely. I want to play in the water and allow the fun and joy my boys' are experiencing to seep into my pores and invigorate my body. I can laugh out loud, just as my kids are. I don't give a hoot who may judge me because they are judging me based on my age and appearance because those people cannot remember the sheer fun of being a kid again.
What am I waiting for? I don't have to worry about these "nice clothes." I'll go change. That's what I'll do. I suck down the rest of this adult beverage. Run towards the elevator. Go to my room. And change for the pool!
Wait!
My adult beverage is in a plastic cup. It occurred to me that I could bring my drink with me while I passed through the lobby. Go in the elevator. Exit the elevator and hurriedly get to my room. Change, come back to the pool. My drink will be done by then, and I'll jump in the pool.
Or!
I can drink this adult beverage. Stop at the bar on the way back to my room. Replenish my drink. Then, I take my refilled alcoholic beverage through the lobby, into the elevator, and sip the drink to tolerate the elevator music. I arrive at my room, change, finish the rest of my drink in the elevator on the way back down to the pool, stop at the bar, receive a new drink, and then jump in the pool with my boys.
These adult decisions are so complicated. I may need to sit here and finish this beverage while contemplating where this life is taking me now. I must plan my next move before this ice melts. I will daydream about what it was like being a kid again and wish this was the fountain of youth in my hands.
Ugh, sometimes these adult decisions simply suck! I will sit here and sip on my drink for a while and ponder what my own youth was like and how it must be now if I were in my kid's shoes (or swim trunks) at this very moment. All the while, small invasive thoughts will make me wonder to myself, "Is the bartender shafting me on the alcohol?"
There's always time for the pool and drinks with good friends and family. Adult decisions are hard to make. Especially with this cocktail server, which is nearby and I didn't previously see, which means I don't have to move from my seat if I choose not to. That just complicated everything. Maybe I'm swimming in my alcohol more than my kids are swimming in the pool.
794 words
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