CNF; Summ-ahh

In the summer, the homework flow stops, the stiff plastic seats seize to make my butt numb, and the emotional school meltdowns no longer faze me. 

Sunscreen? Check. Swimsuits? Check. Towels? Check. I'm ready for my summer job. I'm stoked for the sunburns, smells of chlorine, and the awkward one-piece tans. It's time to make money, befriend co-workers, teach swim lessons and scream, "Walk on the pool deck!"

I scan my designated area; the cement sizzling with every splash of water like a hot skillet has my attention until I see signs of a drowning victim. The meltdown begins: hands sweaty and feet suddenly scared to move. My training, gone.

I blow my whistle once, point to the victim and enter the water. I swim with high elbows, the tube under my arms and grab the drowning boy, struggling, I swim to safety. Isn't summer supposed to be stress free?