Swimmingly

I have a scholarship to the Y. In Toledo, the Jewish Community Center and its giant outdoor pool are part of the Y.

I had a white bikini once. At six. The first and last I'd ever wear. I wore it to the JCC, where I swam in the shallow end with my mother. I grew up swimming at the J. I'd see how long I could stay under water. I'd climb the ladder to the high dive. Sometimes, I'd chicken out and climb back down, but most of the time, I'd leap. I ate malteds from the snack bar. I got lobster red sunburns and golden brown tans. I read books on the chaises longues.

Two years ago, after losing a couple hundred pounds, I returned to the pool at the JCC. I could finally get out of a pool using a ladder, and that meant I could swim laps in the deep end. The first time, I kept the line of my backstroke using a pine tree as a guide. I'd look at the tree to orient myself so that I wouldn't go off center and hit the lane dividers. I swam my first mile that summer, though my left shoulder started to give in the middle of the last full lap.

I got my scholarship letter last week, and am now a member of the Y again. Given the recession, I had to give up membership for about six months. I managed a few swims this summer using a cache of guest passes I managed to assemble from friends and strangers (thank you, Craig's List benefactress). I decided that if I got the scholarship, I'd swim thirty times before the pool closes in the fall.

Three swims down. Twenty seven to go. I almost think I can do it.