Sunday Meditation

Snow swirls around cars in the parking lot visible through the glass wall of our local recreation centre, the swimming pool area to be exact. I sit inside on a bench, watching four grandsons learn how to swim, all in different classes and in different areas of the huge swimming complex. The fact that there were lessons scheduled to accommodate all four in the pool at the same time was a marvel and a stroke of luck, but there they are, bobbing around in their various classes.

My own kids were swimmers. Ongoing lessons and in one case, swim club made the pool a weekly, sometimes biweekly event for several years. My youngest spent her early months inhaling chlorine as she slept peacefully in her car seat while her older brother and sister swam. That’s her, out there now, with the youngest grandson, who, at not quite three, is not yet old enough to be in the water by himself. He boldly retrieves ping pong balls and rubber ducks, spins, claps, blows bubbles and tries to float. He is safe in mommy’s arms for now but before long he will be swimming on his own.

The next grandson, at four and a half is at home in the water. He loves fish and right now is probably pretending he is one. He does what is required and then explores along the edge of the pool. His instructor calls him back regularly but he is experimenting – stretching his fins in the direction of independence.

Our six year old guy is with his instructor in the corner of one of the big tanks. He is the only one in his class, a necessary allowance for a little guy who wants to swim like the others but who wouldn’t thrive in a class with the distraction of other students.

And the oldest grandson is off with his eight year old peers. He tries very hard but he is nervous – wants so badly to succeed but he’s isn’t able yet to relax enough to let his body trust the water. He may or may not get his badge this time around. He will be disappointed if he doesn’t make it and I make a mental note to tell him how many times his uncle, who he admires and who eventually became an excellent swimmer, took to pass the beginner level. Looking even further back, I will share with him that it took his grandma several tries as well.

I go back to watching the youngest and his mom – they are having a great time building trust, building a mom/son relationship so important in a single parent family. The mom is doing an admirable job with these boys – it’s hard to be everything for everybody and I admire her love and strength. She has been given such an enormous responsibility and she meets it daily, head on.

I am there because I want to be. I am thankful for this opportunity to enjoy the pool – the smell of chlorine is friendly, familiar. The air is moist and warm – a good place to be on a cold winter day.  I am the guardian of the towels, the waver, the person with the thumbs up after a successful jump or dunk. And afterward, I manage to keep four little fishies, changed back into rambunctious boys, from leaving the building while their mom gets dressed.

When they are over, I will miss these lessons and the opportunity to spend time in this warm, humid atmosphere.  It’s a peaceful half hour – a good place to let thoughts wander on a Sunday morning.