Swimming Lessons

I could watch the swim lesson from the viewing room upstairs, I was told, so after getting my little boy fitted out in swim trunks, I led him to a bench by the pool and hobbled up to my assigned seating on the second floor. There was a small-scale set of bleachers, behind a large picture window, in the room overlooking the pool.  I saw some other kids, about his age, join him on the bench.  Most had smiles on their face, but not mine.  He looked cold, and miserable.

We hadn’t lived there long, and I’d hoped to meet other moms, there at the Y. But they must have just dropped their kid off.  It was the YMCA, in a small, religious community, after all.  Other matriarchs were probably headed to the windmill mall for coffee, or home to knit or sew or garden.  My TBI had left me overly cautious, though, and I didn’t knit, or sew, or garden so I was there for the duration. Then, just as the kids got into the pool, one lone mother came in and sat next to me.

The water must have been warm because my boy’s sour expression disappeared.  But this is not about my child’s inability to cope with being cold. It’s about how I met the cousin of a close, childhood friend.

The lone mom and I chatted, as we watched our kids below. When I told her I was from Kalispell, she asked me if I knew her cousin. Squealing in shock I said, Sure, I knew him!  We were great friends, growing up!  My head injury makes me less inhibited, and it’s still difficult for me not to say, exactly what I’m thinking. 

She was new to town, too, I think.  (When I reminisce, all my statements should end with I think, because of the memory issue.)  She was the first real friend I made, on my own, after my TBI.  She liked me, for me, and even though she had not known the old me, she accepted me with all the after affects a TBI can leave one with.  The head injury thing just wasn’t a big deal to her.  We became good friends, and our boys did too.

She had another child, our boys grew up, and she went back to work, in the big city next door.  sometime in there, we moved to Idaho.  

More on her cousin in my next post.

Hitch in My Get-Along and Swimming

I remember when my ex and I lived in Spokane, the valley. One brutally cold night we decided to go for a run. What were we thinking? Oh, that's right, we were young.  The route we chose to run was a little-travelled-country-type road, and the night sky was crystal clear.  The heavens were chock-full of stars and, it was as if the silence had wrapped us safely in its cloak. 

Interesting. Of all the thoughts in my damaged brain, that's what shows itself! I don't remember being miserable, or how long we ran, or what we talked about. But the image of that cold sky, and the silence is what stuck.

Swimming has never been a favorite, maybe because I had so little body fat, floating wasn't easy. More about swimming, and why I now love it, later. 

Now, I have mobility issues: a hitch in my get-along. Everything seems to be able to do what is suppose to do, but there is a disconnect between my brain and Everything, so the job is compromised.

The job: Getting me from here to there, on my feet. I can only walk absolutely correct for not so many steps. Therefore, I limp and, try as I might, I can't NOT LIMP!  So, if walking is difficult, what are the chances that I can run?  

I cannot run.  Soon after my TBI, I thought that, over time, the kinks might smooth out.  Eventually, I thought, I'd be able to, at least, jog!  I always hated distance work.  To me that meant anything longer than 1/4 mile! But, there I was, working towards distance work!

But, time didn't help the disconnect, and I never have been able to run.  Sad.

Water arobics is how I started to love swimming,  and I realized how much I loved being in the water; period!

Happy.  Swimming is so dang cool because: 

1. I can't fall down 
2. I don't over heat
3. Our best friend lives on Flathead lake
4. The Noodle was invented