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I remember a long time ago there was a swimming hole where I would go and wash away all the things that sat heavy on my heart.  The pool was my own, no one else used it and the water was cool and refreshing; clean and clear.

Every time I arrived, the surface was like glass; never a ripple, not even in the breeze.  And when I’d jump in, a small swell would rise and dissipate quickly as it rolled across the seemingly bottomless pond.  Soon, all was calm again and I could stay as long as I wanted in a carefree existence enjoying peace, calm and bliss.

Whenever I felt the weight of the world pressing in on me, all I had to do was find the pool, jump in and swim.  The dirt and grime from play or school was washed away and settled to the bottom of the pool never to be seen again.

But as nights faded to days and days transformed into years, the path to the pool was lost.  Often I’d look for it and sometimes find what looked like the solace I was looking for; and jump in.  Mostly, however, the new pool was a pit and the solace it offered was just a cover to add the appearance of clean while adding another layer.

Layer after layer builds.

And then; in a laugh that brings joy to your heart or the twinkle of the eye in a carefree moment, you remember the swimming hole that you used to frequent years ago.  It was your own place to go and refresh your spirit.

Where was it again?

I’d like to find it again.  The layers are heavy and broader shoulders always fade with time.