I Was Going to Learn How to Swim This Summer
Stifled Summer Travels
Hi, I’m Gaby, a 39-year-old woman who can’t swim.
Nice to meet you.
I also can’t rollerblade. Oh, and I was 38 when I learned to ride a bike.
“What?” someone asks on the back.
That’s right. Up until last year, I couldn’t ride a damn bike. Here’s the thing: every weekend, spring break, or summer, come vacation time, my parents would lock my siblings and me in our home. We wouldn’t go to the parks, and we couldn’t visit any friends.
It was just us inside the house. We would read, watch TV, and play videogames. We would clean the house, of course. And we would do our best to behave — not doing it would bring up a belt to our butt, a good hair pull or a slap.
Sometimes we would go to the supermarket with our parents. Once in a blue moon — or should I say “blue sun”? — they would take us to visit our grandparents. They lived in a small Mexican town, far away from my city. Un pueblo, as we call them.
We would spend a few days there, “visiting.” And what did we do? Well, we would be inside our grandparents’ home, all-day long. We would read, watch TV, and help clean the house…my grandparents didn’t have a video game console, though.
