Splashed Out Of Writer's Block

Splashed Out Of Writer’s Block

          I sat staring at the white screen on my computer, as if magically a story would appear without any help from me. Fifteen minutes go by as I sat there contemplating my first word. My son, Dylan came downstairs with the speed of a bullet. “Mom, can we go swimming?” he asked excitedly. My first reaction was to say not right now, I’m working, but as I looked into the face of my seven-year-old, I reluctantly said, “alright, get your brother and your swim trunks.”
         The children quickly changed into their bathing suits and proceeded to romp and splash in the soft blue liquid. Some had floats that they threw themselves on top of, hanging on as they kicked their feet like baby ducks in their banana colored life vests. Others played with balls, throwing them across the large pool or trying to sit on them, squealing with delight as the air pressure pushed the balls out from underneath their bottoms. Mothers held their babies, trying to coax then into learning the brave feats of swimming alone and laughed deliciously as the little ones gave it their best effort.
         The one thing they all had in common was the extreme pleasure of flowing around carefree, and by the looks of them at play, the world was suddenly an event of happiness.
         All grinned from ear to ear as if it were their first experience with the promise of a fabulous adventure. I watched from the sidelines, as I wrote in my journal, perfectly happy in my white pool chair, watching the expressions on the faces of my beloved family. A feeling of calmness washed over me like rain. Grateful that I had found the time, a mere hour out of my busy life, to give such great pleasure to my children as they frolicked with Nana in the vast blue water.
         One by one brave children lined up for their turn on the diving board. Carefully they walked to the end of the plank. Serious expressions replaced earlier smiles and when they reached the end of their walk, they would turn and wave to on-looking parents. Then they would jump up as high as they could, to produce the bounce of a superball, and edged toward the water to arrive with the force of a tremendous splash. Underwater they went, and as their little bodies surfaced back to civilization their faces beamed with a smile, as they wiped the water from their eyes with wet hands.
         I looked down at my notebook that I had been writing in, and was surprised to see how easily the words I couldn’t find at home came to me now, my writer’s block diminished. I called my children from the pool handing them their towels, as they thanked me for taking them swimming.
         “It was my pleasure,” and little did they know how much I meant it!

:by McKinley Rose