DUOFILIA

I wonder how many hours parents log in, sitting in the sidelines, in audiences or in bleachers? Swimming lessons just begun again and already it seems like a lot of time on the aluminum bleachers, but yet on the other hand, it’s sweet time, watching my babies grow up, seeing things I’ll never see again.

They love their teenaged swim instructor Seth, who does a good job with the children. There are six girls and one boy in the group, ages 5-7. They practice their “bobs,” dunking under the water and right back up, looking a bit shocked but elated at first, pulling away the strands of hair stuck to their faces. Seth calls each child out and balances her or him on his hands as they practice floating and kicking around in a circle. The little boy goes out, all red hair and white skin; his tummy sticks out of the water and reminds me of Loch Ness, if Loch Ness were a freckled little white boy. Finally, each twin gets her chance. Sydney looks very serious, concentrating on the task. Summerlyn chats with Seth all the way around the circle. Sydney sees me and grins big and blows me a kiss. Summerlyn giggles with the girls.

The other parents look like me, at times tense, at times grinning big and waving at their little drips. Watching the older children practice their diving — every time a child does a big belly flop, the parent section collectively groans and winces, and then laughs. We’ve all gone through this, first as children, now watching the children with vested interest. What if she never catches on? What if she always looks like startled praying mantis when jumping in the water? But they improve a little each time, and try to catch our eyes to make sure they see the pride there.

Sydney and Summerlyn turn six in two weeks. Less than two weeks. I love them so much. They are the joy of my life. Swim, little pollywogs, swim!