Eternal summer water hole memories
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As we get older, we don't go to the swimming hole on
Lewis Creek as often as we used to, and it's a shame.
A recent jaunt down there brought a reminder of what we'd been
missing and slapped us with a lifetime of happy memories of
splashing diamonds in the August sun.
There is something about the
swimming hole, heat, green leaves on the surrounding trees and
children's laughter that go together. Throw in the barking of two or
three ecstatic dogs and the smell of burgers cooking, and the result
is a symphony of life itself.
Even sitting in the shade on folding chairs is a thrill these
days. Oh, we remember when our dads put that swinging rope up on the
cottonwood limb after the old one broke. The old one was one used by
their parents when they were kids. We'll have to check this one to
see how much life it has left in it. Maybe we don't swing out and
drop in the water with arms and legs flailing against the blue
universe the way we used to. Not anymore. But there's nothing wrong
with our memories, and we can remember how it felt to swing out and
up and let go and fly and hang suspended for one delicious
split-second of immortality before plunging into the deep hole and
the cool water beneath us.
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Every time a youngster swings out now, we watch, and in a way
it's us doing it, too. We can feel the rough whiskers on the rope,
fill our lungs as the youngster does at the very apogee of the
swing, feel the water cool our bodies in summer bliss as we drop
down to the bottom and push off the rocks with our bare feet and
rise to the surface.
We can feel it each summer, and for summer after summer until our
memories fail or we don't make it back here. But on a day like this
one, a guy tends to make private plans to live forever.
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