Ending Up Where I Began - March 28 2026

 

Ending Up Where I Began

March 28 2026

At the indoor pool

on a dull winter day

the bright overhead light

seems almost defiant,

unnatural

in its cool whiteness,

but an act of resistance 

against the dark.

The warm humid air

feels indulgent 

even exotic,

like a fancy spa

or private island

near Bora Bora or the Seychelles.

But also tenuous,

a tropical bubble

protected from the freezing cold

by the building’s thin skin

of cinderblock and siding. 

The human bodies

splashing in the shallow end

and schmoozing on the deck

on their precious day off

are scantily dressed

in droopy bathing suits

and plastic flip-flops.

They’re a cross section

of height and shape;

mostly pasty and soft,

yet, before neighbours and friends

refreshingly unselfconscious.

The human race, in all its stunning diversity;

8 billion

yet no two of us the same.

I have the lanes to myself

at least for now,

swimming up and down, counting laps.

Underwater, I feel alone

despite the crowding and cacophony;

no sound except my breathing,

and no one around

to dispel the illusion

of blissful solitude.

A respite from winter

on a Saturday afternoon

in the municipal pool,

swimming badly

but trying hard.

And even though it might seem foolish

to be going nowhere fast

and end up where I began,

I leave rejuvenated;

feeling a little more virtuous

than when I arrived.

The rock and roll soundtrack

playing too loud,

the feral kids

screaming with delight,

and the fussy baby

bawling in her mother’s arms;

all recede, beneath the water

on my South Sea island

a few blocks from home.