I was at our apartment complex outdoor swimming pool with my scrawny, wrinkled old body doing my breast stroke slowly and watching two 8 year old girls trying to learn to dive. I thought “I haven’t tried to dive in 40 years – I used to dive sometimes at the Loyola Marymount pool when I took my twins there, but I hated the feeling of the water going into my nose and then my throat.”
Then I thought, maybe I should dive just one last time on this earth. I hesitated. Finally I decided I would just do it. A young man who had been swimming laps saw me hesitating at the edge of the deep end. “Do it. I’m supporting you,” he yelled out.
I plunged in. On the way up, I remembered that awful sensation in the nose. But it was worth it. The little girls and the young man clapped. I felt it was a symbol of diving into the adventure of the next part of my life in Hot Springs.
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