The Pool

[Weekend Wordsmith this week prompted us with a picture. I encourage you to read my post first, then go take a look at the picture.]



The Pool

"...and bring a towel for the pool" the invitation read.
Pool? What pool? They hardly have a back yard!
There was no room for a pool.

When I called to say I was coming I asked, "What pool?"
I could hear the smile in her voice
as she just said, "Don't forget your towel." Was she trying
to channel The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?

The day of the party was hot before the sun rose,
the air heavy with humidity,
and I was glad for an excuse to neglect chores and errands.
I brought a chilled bottle of wine -- and my towel.

I went in the front door, though I was dying to see the back,
to see if there had been major excavation.
No the window still looked out on a tree-covered hillside.
"Come on downstairs," she said, "We have the food set up there."

I walked down the narrow steps to the cooler basement,
and admired (and sampled) the buffet table.
I added the wine bottle to the tub of ice
and poured myself a glass of what was open.
Then I stepped out the side door to the lower driveway.

There, beside the asphalt, in the shade of the big oak
was an inflatable "kiddy pool" half-full of clear water.
"Grab a chair," she said, pulling one up to the side of the pool,
"and come on in - the water's fine."
And it was.