Big Happy And Little Quiet Old People

Two of my kids swim in Boulder City. At the BC Pool. It's an odd little place. In the fall the outdoor pool closes for two weeks, while someone or something pulls this humongous tarp over the pool to create a "bubble". Then it reopens as an indoor pool.

Since my kids' dad swam in college I find it befitting that they be good swimmers themselves. Also, it fits my purposes well. The swimmers need not be driven to a team sport with Saturday games in Henderson or Las Vegas. It literally takes one hour and five minutes out of my day.

I like going to the pool. It is calming and quiet. Plus, my kids are quiet while they swim. And, I like listening to Coach Lynn admire their talent, or natural affinity, I guess.

As I sat there today, a very tall, very large older man came out and put his towel on the bench next to me. "This is my first time here. I am EXCITED."  As I told DH about the guy later, he asked if he was "intellectually compromised". And no, he was not. He was ITALIAN.

He looked around and said: "Where are my PARENTS?"

I was somewhat surprised, because I didn't think anyone his age still HAD parents. And, there they came. They were ancient and tiny and slow and smiley and they HELD HANDS. And they were so happy holding  hands. So happy that I wished DH was there, because it melted my heart and maybe it would have his, too.

"Look Dad!" the younger one belted, and dove- belly flap- into the pool. He came back up. "Oops, I guess I miscalculated that a bit!" He was so excited that I felt excited and wanted to 'shush' the lifeguard who came over to tell him that "Sir, there is NO diving allowed."
"My bad!" he exclaimed, and swam off.

In the meantime, Mama and Papa had started making their way to the edge. They stood around, scratching their heads, until their son swam up.

"It is simply too deep here," the dad said, in his petite, frail voice.  "4.9, that's taller than your mom." They shook their heads, and looked around.

The younger one pointed to where the little kids were having a class. "That's where we must take you." And off the older two went.

The boisterous one looked at me: "I wonder if they have classes for my parents here. Something low impact, something good for their joint pain ."

"They do, and they would love it." I said. How do I know? Well, I signed up for a class once and bolted when I saw little old ladies and gentlemen rolling up with their walkers, you know, the kind with the tennis balls on the bottom. This IS Boulder City, after all.