Floating

I am floating in a swimming pool on a pink flamingo. When I lean back, the sky is a bright blue splotch, the sun peeking out behind the trees. I haven’t been in a swimming pool in years. It feels good. The cool water, the sun on my face. I could do this all day.

I could do this all day, I say to my friends. It’s their pool. Their pink flamingo plastic floaty-thingy. Tonight they're hosting a party for their daughter who is getting married. My husband and I are in town to celebrate. Our son has flown in too. It’s a quick out and back trip. We’ll be here for less than 48 hours. I look up at the sky again, trying not to skip myself forward, the pool time over, the cleaning up and readying for the party, the party ending, the goodbyes, the trip back to the airport.  

How do I do that, float myself in place? The pink flamingo bobbing, friends and my husband and son throwing a ball overhead, someone handing me a coke to fit into a drink holder. There’s a drink holder in the pink flamingo floaty thingy’s arm! Who thought of this? I want to hug this person.  

Let’s swim across the pool, my husband says. See if we can hold our breath. 

Another thing I haven’t done in years. Dunk my head underwater. Swim. I do it. It’s funny how what you’ve learned comes back to you. I can hold my breath. I can swim. What else do I know that I have forgotten? I dip under again. The world is far away and it’s such a relief. 

But I have to stop doing this. Being bothered by the world. Except bother isn’t the right word. Rage is what I mean. Despair. Whatever the word is that means sink underwater and stay there until everything above the surface rights itself. Here though, now, the world is all right. I come up for air.  Pool time is over and now we are at the party. 

It’s English garden-themed because the engaged couple live in England. The invitation said to wear a hat. My friend lends me a silly green hat with a poofy bow. I sip a minty drink and my son tries to teach me how to do a swingy dance. I can’t get the hang out of it, my feet tripping me up and my hat bow boinking my face, but I am laughing. And look at the engaged couple, how radiant they are. I want to stop time. The party has ended. We say our goodbyes. 

Back at the airport and I am writing this. I am writing this and I am on a plane. I am home, writing this. I am floating on a pink flamingo in a swimming pool. I am dancing, feet tripping, laughing. Over and over I tip my head back, blinking at the bright blue sky.