Summer always meant swim meets, held on Saturday mornings or Wednesday evenings. In high school, I cheered on my brother as he burned up the lanes.
Some years later, I cheered on my own kids as they kicked and stroked. Finally, my grandchildren did us proud at the meets. Even when I didn’t attend meets anymore, I could hear the squawk of the announcer’s horn drifting through the air to my back garden from the neighborhood swim club.
It was a familiar, exciting sound that meant that the announcer had just loudly pronounced, “Swimmers. Take your mark.” And the swimmers would be off and racing.
This year, though, the year of COVID-19, there is nothing but silence. There is no swimming and no swim meets. The neighborhood pools are closed. I miss the sounds of summer.
Carol Adibzadeh
Alamo
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