HAs we get older, we don't go to the swimming hole on Lewis Creek as often as we used to, and it's a shame. A recent jaunt down there brought a reminder of what we'd been missing, and slapped us with a lifetime of happy memories of splashing diamonds in the August sun.
There is something about the swimming hole, heat, green leaves on the surrounding trees and children's laughter that go together. Throw in the barking of two or three ecstatic dogs and the smell of burgers cooking, and the result is a symphony of life itself.
Even sitting in the shade on folding chairs is a thrill these days. Oh, we remember when our dads put that swinging rope up on the cottonwood limb after the old one broke. The old one was one used by their parents when they were kids. We'll have to check this one to see how much life it has left in it.
Maybe we don't swing out and drop in the water with arms and legs flailing against the blue universe the way we used to. Not any more. But there's nothing wrong with our memories and we can remember how it felt to swing out and up and let go and fly and hang suspended for one delicious split second of immortality before plunging into the deep hole and the cool water beneath us.
Every time a youngster swings out now, we watch and in a way it's us doing it, too. We can feel the rough whiskers on the rope, fill our lungs as the youngster does at the very apogee of the swing, feel the water cool our bodies in summer bliss as we drop down to the bottom and push off the rocks with our bare feet and rise to the surface.
We can feel it each summer, and for summer after summer until our memories fail or we don't make it back here. But on a day like this one, a guy tends to make private plans to live forever.
Brought to you by Imagination Theater. Hear what you've been missing at www.transmediasf.com/imag.html.