Every so often I have this dream. I wander into the backyard where I grew up and try to resuscitate the pool. We had a great big in-ground pool and I have some great memories swimming there. When my dad died, so did the pool. For a while it was just in disarray, and then it was a big hole, and then just before we moved, we filled it in with purchased fill and the playhouse my dad had built when we were little.
When I dream about the pool, it’s always green with algae and filled with muck. The concrete around it is cracked and covered in acorns and leaves. But I put the hard work into it and sweep away the detritus and pull out the teak patio furniture and get the water clear and swim-worthy again. And it is always a good feeling.
Summer feels like that to me. I finally get to swim in the clear water after a winter of hard work and metaphorical muck and grime. Today was just the kind of summer day I have been craving for what feels like years. I found a tree in the park and sat under it, reading, writing, knitting, daydreaming… I need more days like this in my life.
But I’ve also learned to appreciate these days when they come. I live for this. Hello, summer. Thanks for coming back.