I swam on Monday in a deep blue pool and realized, like I do every summer, that I was home. It was my first time in deep blue this year, and I was in heaven. I splashed with my niece and tossed a ball with my son in waist deep water. Then I dried off on a lounger next to my best man. I could tell that my husband had to have gotten a wee bit tired of me mentioning all the ways that I was happy – a happiness I hold deep all winter long.
I have been escaping to pools since I was a pre-teen. I’m sure I dove into our pool at home thinking I was under great stress at 14. Whatever. Our family, like most, has had our fair share of challenges, troubles and loss since those easy summer days. The summer after my youngest sister died, my son was only a year old. It’s little wonder he’s such a greater swimmer now, because I gave him no choices as we loaded into the car almost every day that summer and made the trek to our public pool. Some days we were there for only an hour, and some days we were there for much longer while he napped for several hours. I spent those hours healing myself with quick dips in the water when the heat of my memories and the sun became too intense. I watched him sleep in the stroller, and I got lost in the din of other people’s children and their splashes.
This was all during the first several years of stuff. Casey was working her butt off every day of the week, except Sunday, when I was in charge. In addition, I worked during the week when my son was sleeping – or when he was peaceful enough to work “with” me in a retail environment, which wasn’t much. And I was in charge of all errands and chores that could be accomplished at 30 miles an hour with the little dear strapped into a car seat.
Casey and I had decided at that point to continue the corporate consulting that we had brought with us to stuff from our previous careers. Over the first six summers of stuff‘s life, the trade-off, in my book, for Casey working 6 days a week at stuff was me working the four summer months with the United Autoworkers and the Ford Motor Company. I was the lead developer and implementer for their joint special events and projects at the Claycomo Auto Plant here in Kansas City. It was exciting, fun and exhausting. We were building our dream business, I was building a family, and we were continuing to hone our consulting skills.
Most days were a blur during those summer months with my baby/ toddler/ little man – those months were crucial to our new business, but I nevertheless escaped to the pool and cooled off mentally and physically. It was then that I realized for the first time that stress can’t swim. It runs screaming from the hot concrete and waits in the nether regions. Upon further research, I found out stress can’t even float. This form of dedicated scientific research involved me floating on my back with my ears under the water and my eyes looking skyward. It is a divine was to spend a few minutes, and is something I do every summer when the sky is truly blue enough. I can swim by myself for hours and be happy, but put my teenage son in the mix and I’m beyond contented.
As our son’s love of the water has increased, so has mine. I thought it would be impossible for me to love it more. But I guess there is a kernel of truth in those old sayings about how much the human heart can hold.
Mine can hold the Pacific Ocean. And maybe the Atlantic, too.
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