I took my son to his swimming lesson today and afterwards, instead of rushing away to complete a long list of errands, I let him play in the pool.
For the next half hour I watched him splash and make shapes in the water. He made circles and question marks, even triangles with his sleek body. He swam and dove and thought of nothing but the wet water and its silky feel against his skin.
I watched him in his funny little swim cap and his blue goggles which gave him the air of an elfin super hero. His smooth body encased in regulation blue swim trunks. His little pink toes sticking out every which way as he yet again flicked his body over and dove for the bottom. Where, as anyone knows, lies the power and silence of an aqua universe.
Around him swam an assortment of people, executing frog kicks and breast strokes–even a half decent free style. The winter light outside darkened and the huge window on the side of the building became a mirror, doubling my moment of zen. I listened to the whaa whaa of the pool acoustics. And watched the worms of white light wiggling on the sparking blue water.
My wristwatch ticked at me impatiently but I decided to do nothing but look and listen and be in the moment. I remembered my son as a baby and pictured him as the young man he so soon will be. And I thought how much I wish upon him a life time of these moments when nothing is accomplished except for bliss.