Lying on a towel, grateful for the shade of this broad tree, we’re waiting for the outdoor pool to open and the waterpark is our only option. It’s been about 7 years since I made my way to a water park.
It’s August 12. The height of summer. Towels, nursing mother’s, wet children, screaming babies, and memories of these lost days are what we wait all year for. There is something intrinsically soothing about the hum of the speakers at the pool, and how many mustang cars the children have counted this summer.
There is also something urgent in the sense that we know we’re close to the end of bare skin and air conditioning. With the back to school sales starting, I for one am ready for my cozy sweaters and a return to the land of Mabel Hartley.