S is for Swimming Pool

What to do there: Arrive early, Write about the place filling up. Write about the thrill of being in a crowd as the gates to the pool are about to open or classes are about to start. Write about different roles people have in that setting. For added effect, attempt to write in the first person plural in the voice of the crowd,: “We…”. End your story as the people go into the water and get into the pool.

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Stage 1

Cars and vans, full of impatient parents and teens, roll into the rough unpatched grounds of the parking lot, as honks sound with each slam of the brakes for each driver that’s transporting a late attendee to a class, which happens to be most.

Vehicles scrounging around for free parking stalls, as they unintendedly end up moving at a sluggish pace in line. The right side of the back door for each vehicle bursts open, as each car nears closer to the entrance doors to spill piles of children from each vehicle, rushing to get in past the front doors.

Once the late attendees and students are dropped at the front doors, the assembly line of cars and vans continues to move at a torturous rate, with the common goal of to once again look for a free parking slot.

Once parked and loaded with duffels bags full of towels and body wash in both hands and around wrists, parents and teens continue to speed walk or race to get in past the heavy glass doors, leading to the swimming pool.

Stage 2

With the pull of the glass doors with the matte chrome handles, the honking of the gravelled parking lot transforms into the abrupt chatter, laughter, and scorn of the people all crowded near the empty seats and the front desk with the overwhelmed junior lifeguard appointed during her shift. The running of children, the indecisive actions of the parents, the laughter of teens as they walk in and out of the main entrance all convey one, and only one, understanding regarding the current situation, chaos.

The chaos, the confusion, the frustration, all reflect that it is about to start. The last day of swimming classes is about to initialize.

With the clumping of the crowds of parents and youth in the front entrance, another rushing stream of people hustles past the clustering mass in the centre with the intent of entering the change rooms. More chaos.

The flopping and tossing of slippers and sandals, all with orchestrated movements, pile up and jumble against the front doors leading to the women’s, men’s, and worst of all, the family changing rooms. The stream of the masses continues to rushes forwards with a single movement, as children stumble, trip, and stomp all over the feet of the ones around, as the stream diverges and finally comes the universally despised teal and white tiled floor of the family change room.

Stage 3

The slimy, slippery tiled floor provokes a tiptoeing of the crowd, as opposed to the panicked stomping and rush, as parents repeat the second round of scrounging at the pool, this time for greedy lockers that demand the offer of a quarter with each use of its shape.

Once more, the orchestrated flopping and tossing continues but instead with towels and bathing suits and waterproof diapers, as the constant hustling beckons the continuous yelling and scorn of parents, leaving tiny bodies rushing and running around to get onto the deck. With the bare equipped readiness of wearing a swimsuit, the children and parents shove past against one another to conform into another line, another stream leading to the second set of doors. The wet cringe-worthy floors of the change room lead finally to the last set of doors with the glassed pane and the matte chrome handles.

A final push of rush leads to the opening of the doors to enter the final destination. The whiff of chlorine fills the nostrils of the crowd as the contained chaos of the change rooms and front desk lead to the unleash of the pool of mayhem. The crashing of soft waves against the edges of the rectangular water body, the transformed frustration to laughter, the repulsive floors of tile to the smooth porcelain deck all transform the mayhem into a desired chaos. A desired chaos that begins with the jolting energy of the blow of the whistle to start the jets of pool and unleash the splashes of madness.

T is for Temple

What to do there: Find a quiet spot. Places of prayer are not always tranquil. You could go in between prayer times when the temple is emptier and calmer; you’ll also draw less attention to yourself. Write about memories of prayer, write about a reason for being in the house of prayer at this point in life. What needs to be resolved? Write about textures, light, the sounds, and smells.

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I sit here with my hands clasped before you. Once again.

I had tottered in that day past the doors with multi-coloured stained glass with my small nimble fingers knotted around those of my father. His grip was steady, strong, and soft as he continued forward while pulling me with him. I thought it was just another daughter-father day as we were soon heading to the movie theatre or to the toy store but his focus seemed to be distant, although he had his hand wrapped around mine, it seemed as if he was not aware of it and automatically knew that I was there and was supposed to be there. Though unaware of our purpose to be there, it was certain that things had been different lately. We most likely weren’t heading to the movie theatre.

I hadn’t seen my mother in a few days and at times my dad had also left the house late at night, reappearing at peaks of sunrise at times and during dawns the next day at times. I had been at home with my grandma actually and she had been staying over. I had always treasured her presence and visits but this time it seemed abrupt, she seemed to be distant as well and always continued to check the phone for recent calls, even though I was with her. I was supposed to be her focus, then why was she always seemingly lost, why wasn’t she interested in what I had to say or do? Everyone had seemed scattered from the past few days, I hadn’t even been with my mother in what seemed like years and the only reason why I wasn’t bothered much by that was because my grandma had been staying with me, and now even she seemed to be lost in thought elsewhere.

Today my grandma had disappeared as well in the morning and only my dad was with me. He was missing during the night again but was there right beside me when I woke up this time. He no longer seemed uneasy but he was still lost. Everyone was lost. We had only exchanged a few sentences and this is where he had brought me.

Past the doors, we walked down the aisle and bowed before you. When my dad lifted his forehead from the bow, his eyes were still closed and his hand gently let go of mine to become folding into a pray. With the soft opening of his eyelids, he looked my way and beckoned for me to sit in the spot where I bowed to pray. He got up and went around your shrine to talk to one of the priests and they opened the holy book to what seemed like a random page. My dad looked down at the first letter of the first word on the first page and looked right at me after. His eyes lit up with appreciation, love, and joy as he looked my way and walked towards me with an awareness of my presence this time and said, “It’s a ਸ, your brother’s name will start with an ‘s’”.

My father then explained that my mother had been in the hospital during the past few days and that I now had a friend, a brother. After hearing that, my innocent hands and head turned again in your direction and I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes. I was still unaware of what had been happening around me over the past few days and what was going to happen but suddenly it made sense to close my eyes and pray before you. It made sense to pray to you for a blessing, to pray for thankfulness and love.

I now sit before you once again. Past the doors with the coloured stained glass and down the aisle with carpet below and golden chandeliers above. I now sit before your silks of jewel and the soft glows of light to pray. To pray for another blessing, 11 years later, on his birthday for his well being and success. He has been my friend since I heard of him in front of you and now sit here to pray for the happiness of my friend, my partner-in-crime, with my hands clasped and my eyes closed before you. Once again.

 

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*Author’s Note: If anyone is confused, in my culture when a child is born, the parents or a relative goes to the temple and asks for an alphabet from the holy prayer book. This is the alphabet that is used to name the child.

G is for Glass Tower

This A-Z piece is based on multiple prompts such as ‘H is for Hotel Lobby’ and ‘M is for Market’. Overall, I wanted to write a poetic (sort of) piece that was about how this particular glass tower in downtown Calgary inspires me and reflects this motivation that I have for my education and future aspirations.

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The glistening sun shimmers its faint hues on the edges of the glass building.

Not so much a reflection, but a prismatic twinkle sparks off the corner of its roof pane.

The soft innocent sky with the silent doves mirror their elegance on the exterior sides of its glass windows, as they fly gracefully with poise under the setting sun.

The woman in front of me enters through the doors of the building after the scan of her card, as the scan identifies the capabilities, the qualifications, and the legitimacy of the person it allows to enter, verifying that no other than the one that deserves can enter even within its realms.

The chestnut hair of the woman blows against her left cheek bone as the brushing air of the opening door and the mellow breeze of the afternoon lift the wisps of her hair, along with her pride.

She enters in with a patent leather bag gently placed around her right wrist and lets it slip down into her fingers and she progresses further into the building and out of sight.

The guarded door once again opens but not from the outside but rather from within as man exits.

His wearisome eyes portray his exhaustion, as it seems as if he is leaving after a long, tiresome day at work but that fatigue changes soon.

The man’s twiddling fingers come into view as he flicks a pair of reflective aviator glasses on, as his supposed fatigue transforms into pride, similar to that of the lady’s.

With his strut away and around the corner, my line of sight focuses once more on the guarded door of the glassed building and I notice a slow shutting of the door.

It is closing, but has not closed.

A few unconscious steps lead my hand to extend towards the glossed chrome handle and I pull it open to enter.

Within, the beauty and power of the exterior of the building magnifies, as the insides present a greater sense of elegance, knowledge, and power.

The lush vibrant plants potted around the miniature fountain spread their leaves and vines to wrap their arms around the marble foundation of the fountain.

The marble continues on past the existence of the fountain to cover the floors of the building, leaving reflective rays of the setting sun to sparkle against every marble tile of the spotless floor.

Around the central fountain that attracts enough attention to be noticeable, the pod lights against the plants and sides of the beige walls feature various sides of the lobby in the building.

Behind the central wall, there is an electronic panel displaying the arrangement of elevators, seemingly as if electronic access is required to use the elevators, similar to the opening of the front door.

It all reflects elegance, knowledge, and power.

A power associated with the luxury of the building and its glassed panes and floors with the exclusively guarded doors and elevators.

This building is one for those that work here, for those that have worked hard enough to gain its exclusive access, for those that are educated enough to enter in its realms and have the card or code for access to enter.

Similar to the work required to construct and design the beauty and elegance of the building, work is required to use the building.

That work is prominent in the twinkle of the glistening sun that sets to shimmer against the sleek glass on the outside and within.