Frank watched a plane pass overhead and imagined someone looking down at him in his speedo hugging himself. Winter bit into his joints and the heated pool beckoned him, but he hadn’t gotten the okay to jump in yet.

There was a splash followed by angry whistles. Someone had gotten antsy. Poor girl had to get out and stand there, wet and shivering. The last of the swim aerobics class hesitantly exited and ran to their towels.

Finally came the all clear and the water rushed up to roar in his ears. The warmth cradled him. This was the best part of his day. He didn’t have to talk to anyone, or listen to excuses about tardiness and misplaced homework. This was his time. For a whole sixty minutes he was alone with his thoughts.

Age and life has a way of stealing even the most basic abilities, but here in the water, the lifting of gravity allowed him to be whatever he wanted to be. He was an Olympic athlete so far ahead of the competition that he could coast along at his leisure. He was Tarzan swimming down the Congo. But most of the time he just let his mind wander from topic to topic. Some of his best ideas were born right here in the chlorine.

Pull, breathe, kick; pull, breathe, kick. The rhythm keyed to his heart. Flip, push… pull, breath, kick.  

Too soon the whistle blew and it was time to get out. At the edge of the pool the next batch stood shivering, staring into the light dancing on the water.