So I was lounging next to the pool. Something had changed. My primary objective was to relax, but how could I entertain the exquisite when something was amiss. For a second, dismissal for investigation strengthened with a sip of my Pinot Gris, but even the tang of citrus and floral mid-palate complexity couldn’t kick what was haunting me.
Examination of every detail was perused with scrutiny. The flagstone path was sparkling clean. The brilliance of our newly installed glass and Copper etched doors with soft patterns of Hopi art was an artists dream. The investment, I reflected, was worth every saved penny.
The water, as usual, beckoned me to test its cool solution: the perfect mix of muriatic acid chased with a dash of salt. All Cacti was shaded perfectly by fanning tentacles of swaying Queen Palms. Even the cruxy ebb and flow from the waterfall poured with perfection. But curiosity kept nagging me. Something didn’t fit. So what was it? My questioning mind would not let it go, so trusting my intuition, I allowed my toes to fan the water. Briefly. It wasn’t that . . . With libation safe on tabletop, I probed further and with a rocking to and fro, I took notice that all Periwinkles, Lavender sage and Black-eye Susan’s that swayed in Earth’s harmony, still, an anomaly persisted. I gave up and splintered my stubborn in half. “Do you notice anything different back here?”
My man surveyed carefully. Using his index finger he tapped his chin twice so as to project his concern. “Nope.” Then with water container in hand he disappeared into the bloom. Somewhat satisfied that my answer lay in more celebration, I resigned myself to another glass of glory.
Meandering methodically toward the house, I was visited by memory of lore that says that once one lets go of tribulation, answers will roll in like thunder; and in that second folklore turned to reality. Like a flash of a camera, my Beach-babe-self ceased to exist! I could not escape that the roll that had resonated around my mid-drift, while the thunder had planted itself firmly on my thighs!
So what was amiss?
Nothing really . . . I’m told.
So what if my bod is no longer fit for poolside entertainment!
I can still swim.
And I can swim really fast.
Damn those doors!