Today, as I walked to my vehicle, in a -20 wind chill, I thought of the plastic blow up wading pool I had as a kid.
A bizarre, random thought, I know.
From what I remember, the bottom half was white and the top half blue.
The dogs would use it as one big drinking bowl.
My sisters and I would fill it top full (five inches) with water from the garden hose. It would take far too long for the sun to warm so we would jump in and gasp in shock from the cold.
And giggle, and giggle and giggle.
Most often we would jump in wearing only our underwear. Backyard wading pools never warranted the formality of a bathing suit.
Sometimes my sisters and I (yes we’d all fit) would plop on our stomachs and scissor our legs back and forth,
back and forth,
causing tsunamis to flood over the sides, soaking the towels Mom had laid out for us.
We’d run around the yard then jump in with a splash until there was a film of grass clippings that had washed off our feet, floating on the surface if the water.
One day we discovered how fun it was to run from a distance and slide into the pool.
Which we did over and over and over….
until the side of the pool split.
No amount of duct tape could fix the tear.
It was a sad day… until dad found the high powered oscillating lawn sprinkler.
Some thing, some thought or smell or sound opened that file from the archives of my memory
and I found myself smiling all the way to the chiropractor.
Funny how the mind works some days.