The Winter of our Discontent, Made Glorious Summer

I write a lot.

Words are one of my best friends. They make me feel better when my heart is breaking, shattering, slowly dying. They grab me from that hole of darkness that surrounds us all at some point, and yank me back up into daylight. They’re my savior, again and again, stuck on repeat.

Since I write so much, cleaning up my room often involves discovering old pieces of writing. I love it. I’ll be sorting junk and dirty clothes and then I’ll find a piece of paper with a thought scrawled onto it, or an old portfolio from school. Today what I found was the password to an old blog that me and my best friend used to write together. It was out way of sharing with each other when we were apart.

On said blog, I found a flashback of feelings and moments and also, something that I think is very appropriate to how I feel today. Yesterday night was our second to last guard drill of the season. They very first one of us leaves next week to move on. Move onto her real life? To her grown up life? Maybe, if that’s how you view lifeguarding. Maybe it’s a summer job. But to some, this summer job is a lifestyle. It is who they are, or at least a very big part of it.

I’ve been attending the pool that I work at since I was nine years old. I swam countless swim practices in the very same pool that I now watch over on an almost daily basis. I took swim lessons there, I learned how to dive there. I was the children I yell at to “Walk Please!”. They are who I was. I am who they will be.

I first worked at the pool two years ago, right when I started the blog I rediscovered today with my best friend. Two years ago I wrote this, and yet two years later, it’s still how I feel:

We closed the pool today, shoved all the mats into the guys locker room, all the benches into the girls, piled all the chairs under the awning of the community center, ate the leftover concessions food. Seeing the pool, so empty, lacking it’s people, basketballs, lane lines, leaves-seeing it all alone, was weird. Strange. It made this weird hole form in my stomach, and I had to look away. And PB—he’s leaving. And that I can’t wrap my head around. And EF is leaving tomorrow and…this is the end. The end of the end. The end of summer. It’s official now. That pool changed me this summer. And it’s hard to leave the places that change you, because when they change you, they become you.

I hate moving on.

Hate leaving.

Bye Shorewood.

For now, at least…

ps: you know one of the reasons that I hate winter so much? besides the obvious (snow, school, etc)? It’s because summer is always so amazing, so much fun, so…perfect, that winter can’t live up to that, ya know? In a way, my life is made up of summers. Everything (or so it seems) important happens then.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How time can pass but yet your feelings are the same?

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