The Pool Redux

John Miller 9-18-2007

My mother always held my hand when we went downstairs, and always kept me away from the pool. I remember wondering what it was like in there. Everyone I saw in there seemed to be having fun, so why was I told No! every time I tried to go there? That day started out the same; we went downstairs from our apartment, and she held my hand the whole way. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, my uncle Albert was there. He had been around a lot since my father had moved to his own apartment. I didnt know what a trial separation was at the time, but I had heard my mother talking about it. I hadnt seen my father in weeks. They had told me that he died, but all I knew about that was that I wouldnt be seeing him anymore. My sister was mourning, she understood what death was in a way I didnt. I remember being angry. My grandmother had told us that God took him home, so he could see him every day. That idea disturbed me, even at four years of age, because she had also told us that God can see everything, all the time, and I wondered why he needed to take my father away. It didnt make any sense, but when I asked her about it, she just got angry and said that a four year old shouldnt ask such questions. I remember liking my Uncle Albert a great deal. He was always very funny, and I hadnt yet found out about his temper. That day, he had come by to discuss funeral arrangements with my mother. She had been smoking more recently, sometimes lighting one from the last, and as she lit her current cigarette she released my hand. I could see the pool, and realized she not only wasnt holding my hand, she wasnt even looking at me. I ran as fast as I could, and stepped of the edge and into the pool. It seemed strange, all wet, like the bath, but with cold water. I remember falling a long way, and that my ears hurt a little, likely due to the twelve-foot depth. Everything took on a blue tinge, and my breath bubbled out as I tried to comment on it. I hit the

bottom of the pool, but it didnt hurt, the water slowing my fall. Now I could see why everyone was always laughing in the pool; it seemed like great fun. I started trying to walk, and I bounced up from the bottom with each step. It was 1971, shortly before my fourth birthday, and Apollo 15 had been on the moon the month before. I laughed, thinking I was walking like an astronaut, and releasing more of my precious air, causing an ache in my chest that I didnt understand, but knew I didnt like. I heard a noise, and glanced up, noticing the ripples at the waters surface. My uncle Albert was coming down and he looked rather strange falling upside-down. He also had bubbles coming from his nose, and I laughed again, the ache in my air-starved lungs even worse. He grabbed me, and flipped over in a kickturn, pushing off the bottom with his feet and we sailed all the way up. Id never seen anyone jump so high, I thought, not understanding buoyancy. When we got to the top, he lifted me out of the pool, and my mother grabbed me. She looked so sad, her tears streaming down her face. Uncle Albert climbed out, and his hair and mustache looked hilarious with all the water pouring out. I tried to laugh again, but it hurt from the pressure of the water in my lungs, and I coughed instead. I couldnt get my breath, and started to feel dizzy. Albert turned me around and lifted me up by my stomach, a move similar to the Heimlich, and I threw up and coughed at the same time, water going out through my nose. The pain was terrible, but then I could breathe again. I saw my uncle and laughed at his hair, his near-afro collapsed from the water. He smiled, but my mother looked anything but happy. She took my hand and turned me around, yelling at me to stay away from the pool. She struck me twice on my butt, angry and scared and relieved at the same time, and then turned me around to embrace me, crying again. We headed upstairs, and she changed my clothes. When we went downstairs she had her brother carry me till we were outside the gate. She had been

horrified, but I had had a great time. I longed for a day when she would be distracted again, and I could go back into the pool.