The Grass by the Pool

In the morning, we will hear the roaring wind as we whip along the clicking roller coaster tracks, the bright twisting skeleton structures that gleam and burn in the noontime summer sunshine. As we rise toward the sun at the start of the ride, locked in our seats and climbing at an ominously clattering pace, beads of sweat will cluster on our foreheads, the skin baking at heat stroke temperature. When the ride lurches at the crest of the first hill, setting us into the last slow seconds of buildup before the wild stomach lurching dive down to earth, we will be able to feel the anticipation spreading through every single sweaty pore on our bodies and continuing throughout the humming metal of the ride itself. You will be able to feel the agonizing tension that comes when the hairs on your forearms realize you will soon be hurtling down towards earth at hundreds of miles per hour restrained by only a plastic safety harness strapped to your chest.

But right now, here in the evening by the pool, everything moves with the blithe sliding sibilance that accompanies a warm summer afternoon slowly growing to dusk. The cool water refreshes the skin of the small number of swimmers still left outside. There are seven of them.

Seven swimmers who walk barefoot through the grass on land and glide with breathtaking power and ease when in the water. Seven swimmers who have gone through great pain together and know each other almost better than they know themselves.

Seven swimmers who, together, are a team.