Sunday, September 1, 2013

Summer's Farewell

The clock in my car says 6:50 p.m. I am waiting in the parking lot of the Manorhaven Pool with the windows and the sun-roof open, waiting for my daughter (a rookie lifeguard) to be done with work and come out the front entrance.

Tomorrow is Labor Day -- no more pool, no more lazy mornings. And even with the continuous heat of the afternoons, dark comes earlier now, stealthily debunking my delusion that summer -- my hard-won summer -- would never end.

I sit here in the car, watching the setting seven o'clock sun silhouette the seagulls standing sentry on the pool office roof, feeling awash in the melancholy memory of so many summers gone by, each time, their gentle hands waving breezy farewells.

Families load folded strollers and damp towels into minivans and drive away. An announcement over the P.A. -- "Manorhaven Pool is now closed."

She comes out in her red lifeguard shorts and sweatshirt, whistle still lanyarded around her sunburned neck. I wave, and, seeing me, she flips her hair, lifts her sunglasses to the top of her head, sighs a big sad sigh, and gets in next to me.

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