Lane

In 1991, I moved into an apartment in Ban Nice in SoCal with my then boyfriend. It was my first experience with swimming in winter.

The complex was managed by a couple, Rey, who was retiree age, and Shirley in her 50's. They'd just accidentally had a baby boy.

An aspiring artist, I took photography classes. I don't remember much of my work except for this one headshot of Brent when he was learning to walk. Even on 8" x 10" black and white glossy Ilford his blue eyes really popped. I had overexposed the film and had to burnish the crap out of the paper. Of course, Shirley didn't know I had made eight prints in order to perfect one. She thought I was a genius. It was possibly the most meaningful gift I ever presented a mother.

One night, while Hulmes and I were bobbing in the water, Rey, Shirley and Brent came to hang out poolside.

"Aren't you gonna come in for a swim?" I asked Shirley.

Shirley made a face. "I don't like to get wet," she said.

"Don't like to get wet?!" The notion resounded in my head and I just could not comprehend. It's the funnest thing!

And Hulmes didn't like the way Rey looked at me so I don't recall hanging out much after that.

To think that today Brent is of legal drinking age!

As for me, with age, I've ceased to like getting wet. Well, not entirely. Our community pool is only dozens of yards away. But most summer days the thought of changing into a bathing suit and the rinsing and drying after... Ugh, just seems too much work.

Sometimes I think if I had a pool in my own backyard - if I had a backyard, I might sing a different tune. Skinny dipping is still an unfulfilled dream.

Oh, how I love lists.