Friday, May 10, 2024
Today I am grateful for a different perspective. If you’re sick of me yammering about pool crap, then go get a cuppa something and watch the trial on CNN. You’ll be back here sooner than you think!
I’ve been struggling a little bit with the blues. . .a morose feeling that I was able to tamp down a bit. . .but couldn’t really shake. It’s been driving me a bit nuts, because while I know it’s normal to feel that way and everyone does sometimes, it doesn’t happen to me often, so it feels a bit foreign. And unnerving.
Look, I know I’m graphic sometimes, (most times) but hey, if you’ve ever talked with me, you know I write like I talk. Which is why I’m going to share the truth with all of it’s farts.
I was just fine this morning, having spent enough time in the bathroom, if you get my drift. Then I had a little “gambled & lost” incident in the car on my way to the pool. I knew I had “lost” when the car seat felt a little warm. Cozy, but I didn’t have the seat turned on. Oops. Not bad, but enough of a squirt to further send me round my recent pity party bend. I warned you. Honesty is not always pretty.
Walking in with a friend, she looked at the back of my dress and assured me I wasn’t imagining the incident. So, I had to make a trip to the private shower/bathroom before I went into the pool. Thankfully I did not have to wet the entire swimsuit down, like Tuesday’s debacle of trying to pull that sucker up, but it took me awhile to be sure I’d be okay going in the pool and wouldn’t create an incident causing them to “shut ‘er down.” Mortifying!
So, I was late and the class was well into the first musical number when I sank into the water. I’ve been to enough theater to know that if you come in late, you can’t go to your seat. You have to be courteous and not disrupt. So, I did not crawl under the three ropes I usually do and go to my normal spot. I stayed very far to the left. . .near the stairs. . .which was okay because I might need a quick exit, based on the way my morning was going.
This change in my location totally threw off the instructor, who did a double take and commented on how everything is off because I’m not in my proper place. And my friends, way across the pool, way over there, waved as if I was riding by on a train and totally out of their reach. It felt weird. Just like most of my emotional week had.
There is a small group of women who chatter through the entire class. This drives me crazy when I’m far away, but now I was right in front of them and I thought I’d lose my mind. I tried to zone them out, but that was like trying to ignore a weed whacker that someone is using right next to your bed at 3 a.m.! Annoying.
I was so happy that there were no internal toxic rumblings causing me to leave early, so I could finish the class. The chatterers always scramble out as soon we start our cool down, so they can get a good shower. See ya! By the time the instructor put on the calm, soothing music, and we started deep breathing and stretching, I started to feel myself slowly whirlpooling back to my center.
Then, I turned slightly to my right, with a vantage point of everyone in the pool, their arms stretched up, then out, all paying rapt attention to the instructor. I looked at them. Really looked at them. These 50 or so people, mostly women, but a lot of men, too, whose names I have trouble remembering, although I will never forget their faces, all connected in perfect synchronicity, each one different, but moving the same. Like a chorus of geriatric ballet dancers.
I turned away, tears filling my eyes then creeping down my cheeks. I wondered if I was finally going all the way round-the-bend and losing it. But as I once again turned to look at all of those people, who are so important to the balance of my life, I realized something vital.
I love these people. Not in the way you love a spouse, or a child or grandchild, or even a close friend. But it is love. And I know it might sound a little nuts, but you know I don’t care about that, either. Because I love them. I love their differences. I love their crankiness. I love their honesty. I love their commitment. I love the ones who are quiet and say almost nothing. I love the ones who make me laugh. I love the gloomy Gus’s who grumble and complain.
I love them with scars and blood-thinner-bruises. I love them with parts missing, like discounted Cornish Hens. I love them with titanium replacement joints and hinges that creak and groan. I love them with thinning hair and no hair. And yes, I even love the chatterers who annoy me. I just love them. All.
I let the tears ebb and flow naturally, because in that one cool-down song, I gently recognized I wasn’t losing it. I was finding it. Finding my center, my core of gratitude, that had been misplaced. And all because of a questionable start to my day, that guided me towards a new spot in the pool. . . which offered me a different perspective. BING! Heartprint!