The silence after the last lap

I just cleaned the pool after the final swimmer left. The water was still, not a ripple. I stood at the deep end and listened—really listened—for the first time in months. It wasn’t quiet. It was full. Like the space remembered every stroke, every breath held under the surface. I’ve seen people swim for ninety minutes straight, not for fitness, just to be in that weightless hush. I used to think it was boredom. Now I think it’s reverence. The pool doesn’t forget. And neither do I.