The Three Words That Change Everything
I didn’t realize how much my assumptions were affecting me and everyone around me.
He was there again. Damn. I had gone to the pool nine times in the past month, and every time, the same guy was swimming in my favorite lane.
One time, I tried to get him to move over so I could share with him. I sat on the edge, dangled my legs in and waited for him to stop. He didn’t. He just kept swimming, as if I wasn’t even there.
Entitled asshole, I thought, who does he think he is?
I sat down at the edge of the next lane — the inferior lane with the sloped pool floor— and stuffed my hair into my swim cap.
Then it happened. The lifeguard walked over, dipped a foot-long stick in the man’s lane, and the man got out. The lifeguard handed the man the stick, which he unfurled into a full-sized cane.
Placing the cane in front of him, the man scraped the pool deck in a 180-degree semicircle, as the lifeguard took his elbow and guided him to the locker room.
That’s when I saw the sign. It was set back three or four feet from the end of the lane, so I didn’t notice it before. It read: Blind Swimmer.
