Pookie and I were all about the public pool in our summertime youths. ALL. A. BOUT. IT. Splashin', and mermaidin', and jumpin', and slidin', until--TWEET TWEET ADULT SWIM.
To the snack bar we would go! And if we forgot money...we'd pout. Fiddlesticks. Nuts to all those 18 and older. One of these pouty times I remember Pookie turning to me and saying, OKAY PAUSE--This story makes Pookie sound like a brat, but, the brattiness is necessary to the message. UNPAUSE. She said, "I can't wait until I'm 18, and I can swim, and you can't."
AND I WAS REALLY MAD.
"Noooo," I whined. "Noooo..." and then the whistle blew, and we dunked ourselves back into the cool water, but I was fuming. I was probably six and plotting about how as a 7th grader I was going to trick the lifeguards into letting me swim so my sister would NOT get the better of the situation. And, I gave myself a heavy head full of schemes and angst. And I was not happy to be somersaulting in the June heat.
The truth of the matter is that I think that summer was the last summer Pookie went to the pool with me at all.
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If it makes you feel better, when I was a kid and went to the pool with my brother, as soon as we got there it was like I was an only child. 'Isn't that your sister?" "No."
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