What I take for granted

We went for a walk along the seawall.  The kids were particularly entertained by the ground squirrels on the steep slope between the seawall and the upper sidewalk.  We paused to watch the surfers bob in the ocean and occasionally catch a wave.

“Hey, do you see those swimmers?”

I squinted and spotted the four swimmers moving in tandem in the distance.

They swam far beyond the line of surfers in the deep ocean water.

I kept an eye on them and began to wonder.  Were they young hot-shots?  Some college swim team members, perhaps?  We neared our car in the parking lot and I noticed the quartet of swimmers seemed to be heading for shore.

“Oh, I really wanted to see those swimmers come out of the water.”   I lingered for a moment.

“Well, let’s wait and see,” my husband said.

So we did.

The swimmers emerged from the surf.  Two women supported a third woman as she hopped up the sand.

She hopped because she had only one leg.

The swimmers were three women and one man.  I watched as they high-fived one another.

I walked–on my two-taken-for-granted-legs–back to my car with more questions than answers.

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What I take for granted

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