Andy opened the pool early this year, and he kept it heated for the sporadic and occasional stretch of 80 degree days, which we’ve been blessed to have already had. Now that I’ve reached the age where my own back is giving out and unleashing its own pain, I find the pool immensely therapeutic. I wasn’t even trying to feel better when I jumped in a few weeks ago, but as I spent an afternoon swimming and gliding through the water, I felt the release of gravity pulling down on everything, and when I settled in for bed that night the difference was discernible. Whether it allowed for a full relaxation of any lingering back spasms, or provided just the right movement or stretch motion to relieve something, it felt wonderful. Since then I’ve tried to get in at least once a day, weather permitting, to find similar ease.
My how far we have fallen from the days of seeing whether we could drunkenly keep a burning citronella bucket lit while plummeting down a rickety water slide (for the record, I could, and I did, and there was wax in the water for the next week). I prefer these days to those.
