“Mum, mum watch me. I’m swimming. Hold me. Throw me in the air. Look at me. LOOK AT ME, MUUUUUM. I’m a turtle. I’m going to eat you. I’m going to jump. Catch me. Yay. Mum, Mum, watch me.”
I kick my legs up, arch my back and lay my head back in the water. Water fills my ears, muffling the squeals and excited shouts. It drowns out the demands and in its place is the sound of water echoing in my ear drums. Gullup gullup. Gullup gullup.
I stretch my arms out and close my eyes. Gullup gullup. Gullup gullup.
Weightlessness. Floating through the cool water. The smell of chlorine fills my nostrils. Water drips from my hairline down my face.
I open my eyes and let the sun in. The blue of the pool and the blue of the sky meet each other. Fine wispy clouds drift lazily by. I imagine I am on one, floating through the air. A bird flutters. A plane. More clouds. Light as a feather.
Gullup gullup. Gullup gullup.
I drift, until it’s time.
I bring my arms up above my head and sink under the surface. Whoosh. I duck dive and swim through the cool water until I see little legs duck paddling ahead of me. Reaching out I tickle the tiny belly and push back up into the warm air. Up to the giggling and the squealing. Watery kisses.
“Mum, mum do it again. Do it again. Tickle me. Watch me.”