That Big Moon

 

“I wish that Big Moon were warmer!” It’s Witchy Woman. Of course, she’s commenting on the moon. But I like this idea. It’s so weird.

            “Yeah, the bigger the moon, the warmer it should be!” I proclaim.

            She cackles. Then turns to the woman standing in line, 6 feet or more, behind her. Not wanting to continue the Moon Talk with me? I shrug and shiver.

            One thing she is right about. It would be nice if it were warmer, moon-related or not. It feels a bit crazy to be standing out here in the dark, in flip flops and swimsuit, thankfully covered by my new fleecy coat my sis gave me for Christmas.

            Is the Dive Tank worth it?
            Last night, I’d gotten to swim in the Big Pool. Would I get to again? Or would I be banished to the Dive Tank?

            It does sound like a banishment, doesn’t it?

            The Dive Tank. Like I’m gonna be inside some deep, dark TANK. Without any diving gear.

            The lifeguard comes out, mask and clear plastic hood over his face. The plastic scares me. It’s like I’m in a Sci Fi movie. Our world is poisoned and we all have to wear protective gear.

            Which is true. The coronavirus has poisoned our world. People are dying and getting sick with no end in sight until the vaccine becomes available. And it sounds like this isn’t gonna happen till the spring or summer. And even so, we will all still have to be vigilant. Wear our masks. Swim in our own lanes.

            I honestly can’t even envision a world where I’m back at the Y in the sauna. Hangin' out and chatting it up in Utopia.

            Utopia is gone.

            Hey, but at least there’s the Dive Tank. Actually, I’m kinda curious about it, but do ask the lifeguard if I can swim in the big pool. “If someone doesn’t show up,” he says. “We’ll let you know.”

            I try to hide my disappointment.  “The Dive Tank is that little pool over there?” I ask, nodding toward the far end of the pool deck.

            “Yup,” he says. “You’re good to go,” the woman lifeguard says after waving the blue plastic thermometer at my forehead.

            Does it really register my temperature? I’m dubious. Maybe it just shows if I’m burning up or not.

            Which I’m not. I’m freezing! I do wish that moon were warmer!

            I head over to the Dive Tank. It’s square with 3 lanes sectioning it. I finish gearing up with my cap and plugs and mask and stick my toe in. It’s warm!

            I jump in and swim 4 strokes. At the wall already. Okay, this is gonna take a lot of turning around. But again, I’m just SO happy to be in the water. I don’t even care. Hell, I could just float in here and be happy. What is it about the water that is such a necessary component for my well-being?

            Who knows? As I turn around again, I wonder if I should count my laps. Like how many would equal 80 in the big pool? 200? That would be funny. It reminds me of when I was a kid and I would go out into our backyard pool and swim back and forth back and forth, counting 10, 20, l50, 200 laps. I was a very serious swimmer even as a 10-year-old!

            As I come to the wall, the woman lifeguard has approached me, “There’s an open lane!” she hollers at me.

            “Cool!”  I grin, but thinking how goddamn cold it’s gonna be to move all my junk and walk around the big pool to the chairs on the far side.

            It is cold. Again, I wish that moon were warmer! But once I’m in the big pool, swimming, wondering how many laps I did in the Dive Tank, I’m so happy. Swimming! How did I live without it for 35 days?

            I was very cranky!

            I swim on. Decide that since it’s been about 15 minutes, I’ve probably done about 600 yards. I go with this and start in on my fins backstroke yardage. Swim for about 10 minutes when….

            “Hello!!! HELLO!!!”

            I stop, the guy lifeguard is hollering at me. “The person who had this lane reserved just showed up. We’re gonna have to ask you to move.”

            “Oh…., okay….” I glance up at the clock. It’s been 25 minutes. Shouldn’t anyone who is so late have to forfeit their lane and swim in the Dive Tank? I mean, c’mon. How long are they supposed to hold the lane for someone? When tutoring at the writing lab, we hold someone’s spot for 10 minutes. And this is what it seemed like they had done here, too, when they’d gotten me initially. It had been about 10 minutes, maybe a little more.

            So, it doesn’t make sense for me to move again, but I guess that’s the protocol here when you reserve the Dive Tank.

            I slowly glide to the other end of the pool, readying to get out again into the frigid air, even more frigid cuz I’m wet.

            The Woman Lifeguard hollers at me again, “Never mind. You don’t have to move!”

            “I don’t?”

            “No, it’s fine. You can stay in that lane.”

            I don’t know what happened. I never saw the person who was 25 minutes late for their lane. Maybe they just left. Maybe they’re over in the Dive Tank.

            All I know is that I’ve got the lane now. And I’m gonna make the most of it.

            I turn over onto my back and gaze up at the moon through the misty steam. She looks warmer now.

            Or is it just the all the swimming? Warming me up. I grin as I reach the wall and turn, following the moon with my gaze as I swim back and forth back and forth back and forth…..