Pastoral Lessons
The music blares from suspended speakers.
Some mornings, it is too
cool to swim,
but not today—today the glare of heat
circulates the
waiting mamas and papas
like halos of model parenthood.
When
the instructors call time,
you see the children emerge
with
their newfound pride,
shaking off the droplets
of their
less-experienced selves.
Not one of them will remember
the
exact sound of this place,
the way it lulls them without trying.
It
is only the parents whose yearnings
will remain audible above
the
splash and whoosh of it all.
Their love for their own offspring
is apparent—
and upon first glance, they appear cordial
and
encouraging in their common goal,
bent each of them on the molding—
But
no amount of friendly exchanges
will drown the fact that they are
in
the midst of racing—
racing toward that invisible tape, believing
fully
in its existence, inching
their own just a little further ahead.
There
are others out there,
beyond that six-foot privacy fence.
They
think they have earned this station,
not that skin privilege gave
them a different starting line.
They blame the others for their own
lack of ambition,
and they have their own worries, the race for
instance.
Weekends during summer, they pack up
and drive to their
mountain condos,
singing alphabet and number songs.
When
they come to the family
holding prayer pleas at the four-way cross,
they
realize their lips are chapped,
and busy themselves on the bottom
of
their bags, searching.
It makes for a perfect image.
They
value salvation, but reject
the notion of earning it,
the gift
they were born with,
a faith you hold
when you have the luxury
of leisure.
I am sitting here too—
and I try to focus on the
music.
I try pretending the fence
is there only for the
children’s safety.
I alienate myself from the exchanges,
busy
myself in this notebook.
When the coaches call time,
I reach
down to the bottom of my own bag,
searching—
On the way out,
I
deposit the loose change
into the waiting hands
of the other
family at the corner,
implore them to pray
for my salvation.
