I discovered a beloved part of my summer day around five o’clock in the late afternoon when I was home from college break and lucky enough to have access to the townhouse’s subdivision swimming pool. I sauntered to a sticky plastic lounge chair, once occupied by a young mother with a rambunctious three year-old, and spread eagled in relaxation. The pool, surrounded by wild prairie on three sides, and its deck had cleared; the chlorinated water calmed to intermittent ripples and then bloomed teal as the sun fell lower against a paling blue sky. The day’s resolution came only after its early morning awakening and then climaxed with hot sun overhead and children’s laughter in tandem with the water’s splash.
I became distracted by the new intoxicating sounds and sights. Calm winds gathered in open fields and continued their journey, slipping through links in the fence carrying sweet smells of spicy wild flowers and humid air. As the fragrance mingled over the pool, it picked up hints of chlorine, then floated by, waking me from a meditative rest. I looked up as if tapped on the shoulder. Crickets chirped in rhythmic symphony to crescendo. I smelled the breeze’s bouquet and heard the resonance calming quickly. I recognized a woodsy scent coming from the new clubhouse with a dried thorny-brush smell added to the mix while freshly cut grass hovered in the distance. My sensory serenity lasted for two hours. I lived in beloved moments in meditation to the end of my day.