The Flying Squirrel

Ronny and I went to the public swimming pool this afternoon. I was reluctant to go, but I'm not sure why. It was a hot day, I was dripping sweat after a rough morning at the diner. Conditions were ripe for a swim, so I convinced myself it was a good thing to do when Ronny asked. "I'll go, Ronny." I said.

And we went. The public pool is fun! There is a diving board, and a slide, and everybody is happy there. They don't care who you are, it's summer, and summer means fun.

Ronny knows an impressive array of dives for a man a good bit older than me. He showed me the "flying squirrel", and the "jackknife".

I worked on my dives. We played some catch. We were there for hours, or what seemed like hours. I wanted to stay, but Ronny told me I had to take him home.

"It's too soon, Ronny, I'm not ready to go."

"Curt, it's time."

"I'm not ready."

We left, and as we drove home, I thought about endings. Things ending when you don't want them to. Sometimes you're ready, but sometimes you're not. What can you do? I thought of Ivan Ilyich.

Poor Ivan Ilyich.