Flashes of Panic

The pool was crowded this morning. All the usual suspects were there, plus a few others. Fortunately, they had more lane-lines in the pool than usual; sometimes they’ll just put one row in and let the rest of us follow the block-line on the bottom. The lane lines damp everyone’s wake a bit (with no lines, the chop can get dramatic,) and allows two people to share one lane.

I was on the end, and you could say I was sharing my lane when I started out. There was a tiny little frog, no longer than my index finger, sitting on the gutter-shelf right at the waterline. His head stuck out, but the rest of him was submerged. I wondered if the chlorine bothered him.

As I warmed up, my wake gradually bumped him halfway down the gutter. Eventually he vanished; I don’t know if he went up on the deck, or under me and into the rest of the pool.

Now Playing: Merry Christmas, Mr. Jones from Bob On The Ceiling by The Nields