The Pool

He gifted me the pools.
An experience. A place.

At first, it felt like something shared.
Something that was introduced through him.

When everything ended, I didn’t stay away.
I went that first weekend knowing he was out of town.
Not to avoid him
but to give myself space.

I knew what I needed.
The water.

I craved the weight of it.
The quiet way it holds without asking questions.
The way it steadies the body before the mind has time to intervene.

When I slipped in, the emotion came quickly.
Tears surfaced without warning.
Not because I was breaking
but because I was finally safe enough to soften.

I let the water hold what I had been carrying.
The loss.
The confusion.
The tenderness that had nowhere else to land.

This place became mine.
Not because he brought me here,
but because of how it meets me now.

I made a promise to myself in that pool.
I would not let the ending take this from me.
I am allowed in this space too.

I may see him one day.
Or I may not.
Either way, I am not leaving.

I am here for my body.
For my nervous system.
For the quiet repair that happens when I let myself be held.

What began as an experience shared
has become something deeply personal.

A gift I now give myself.