Face Down on the Diving Board

Face down on the diving board, I stared into the chlorinated depths without really seeing. Though I knew it spoiled the melancholy repose I had to shift so my belt buckle wasn’t pinching me. Three piece suits are not made for lounging. To be fair though, fine summer days are not made for crises of faith.

That’s really the word for it. Life had ground to a halt. My wife left with her yoga instructor, Yuli. My boring, dead-end job dissipated like the vapors from Mr. Krugen’s cigarette while he ‘let me go’. I always thought that a silly phrase. Where did I have to go? What was the point? I’d sold my dreams a long time ago in pursuit of all this, the house, the car, the wife.

A splash that echoed through my vacant mind as a jet of cool water hit my face called a stop to the pondering. Slowly rolling towards the drain at the bottom of the pool was a baseball. Happy memories flooded back. There it was, my answer, my hope. My childhood.

It was the last thing you’d expect to find in a swimmng pool.

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