Thank You for the Chlorine Rashes

Even when the instructor let go,

even when the bubble came off,

even when the wall could no longer provide its unyielding support,

you made me do it myself.

But you never let go.

Even when my teachers loaded me with tests and projects,

even when the fruits of life weren’t so sweet,

even when anger coursed through my veins,

you comforted.

I could grip the yellow ball

and release all of the tension

with one kick

one strokes

one throw

and channel the angst into a laser

cutting through the back of the goal.

Grade point average?

Didn’t matter.

The cost of your clothes?

Didn’t matter.

When I stepped into the pool,

one forceful stride

and a streamline that took me to the bottom

so that I could launch to the top.

I was powerful.

The yellow ball would drop

and we launched like torpedos through the the sea

and all that mattered was the game.

Thank you for teaching me sportsmanship.

Thank you for keeping me in great shape.

Thank you for the friends.

Thank you for teaching me life.

And thanks for the chlorine rashes on the back of my neck

that reminded me it was worth it.