Where the Sun Don’t Shine

I spent the afternoon in a friend’s pool today. I am ever-so-slightly sunburned on my legs, legs which exhibit the pallor of skin that hasn’t seen the light of day in nearly a decade.

The last time I remember enjoying an afternoon in the pool was at the Tokyo American Club, before I became pregnant with Graham, one afternoon when I put Georgia in the Baby Room and just lounged.  Georgia is eight going on nine: at the time of my memory, she was not yet one.

It’s not precisely a milestone, but it is a benchmark toward the something, I’m not sure what. Something good.