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| David, Anne, Nate |
I may never walk right again, but oh! I can still swim! Our grandsons were eager for their second swim in two days and were pleased that I put on my suit. John (Grandpa), wanting to be available to the family for Father’s Day, put his suit on too, although he didn't go in the water. Their mother Kate did her duty by swimming with them yesterday. The boys seemed very pleased to have me there and were very solicitous for my welfare. David (16) stood behind me as I leaned on John and Kate for that first steep step. I cringed when my feet were in the water, and Nate (11) asked if there were anything he could do for me. I was groaning on the next step down. Nate’s advice was to move around and keep going. I was convinced I was a lunatic when the water was up to my waist. Finally I plunged in and swam to the far end and back. Then everything was OK -- no, more than just OK. I could swim as well as I did 30 years ago. It was like turning back the clock! The new knees were watertight and moving better than the originals had for the last 10 years.
The boys were playing with rings and torpedoes. David retrieved the toys from the bottom of the pool that Nate threw for him, and Nate set up torpedoes on a floating toy. It was all very pleasant and civil. I did laps on the shady side, wanting to really exercise while staying cool. I’m not particularly vain, but I was glad only the bottom ends of my hair were wet and that the top looked good. David didn’t do a cannonball when I was near, always warning me when he was going to jump in. He got out routinely to warm up, while Nate and I, with our superior insulation, never got out. As you might guess, this was very, very tame. We all became a bit careless, sometimes bumping into each other. They brought out more toys, and some of the things splashed me. For that there would be a quick, “Sorry, Gran.”
The action escalated when the splash bombs came out. “Watch out, Gran!” Splat!
Then it was, “Catch this one, Gran! Oops!”
I threw them back to Nate, trying to aim the soggy floaters so that he could catch them. That didn’t last long. I learned to throw them hard, aiming at the face for a full frontal assault. Nate hit me on the lips, and I came up spluttering. “You asked for this one, Nate!” Wham!
By the end of the session I looked like a drowned rat. The boys merely looked a bit damp.
