It shimmered.
Glass-like and perfect. As if nothing had gone wrong.
But oh, something had.
Inside me, the pool chemicals were not the only things out of balance. I stood there, test strip in hand, wondering if 7.8 was too high or just high enough to reflect my mood.
Chapter One: The Surface Lies
To anyone else, the pool looked great. The neighbors complimented it. My kids cannonballed like we had it all figured out.
But I knew. I knew.
Because chlorine does not fizz like that unless it is overwhelmed. Because water does not feel slippery unless something is wrong. Because peace does not come from ignoring the filter you never cleaned.
Chapter Two: My Guilt Floated
I poured shock into the water like I was cleansing my sins. But the foam returned. The cloudiness lingered.
And in the silence of the backyard, I whispered, “It was me. I forgot to brush.”
The guilt festered in the corners of the deep end. Each bubble that popped on the surface echoed my regret.
Chapter Three: Redemption Smells Like Bleach
I scrubbed like it meant something. And it did.
Every stroke of the brush against plaster felt like confession. I thought about the missed weekends. The forgotten skimmer checks. The assumption that the pool would “handle itself.”
I cried. Maybe it was sweat. Maybe chlorine mist.
But the walls gleamed.
Chapter Four: My pH and Me
We never really understood each other. I wanted balance. It gave me 8.2. I lowered it. It fought back.
But now, I understand. The water reflects what you bring to it. Neglect. Overreaction. Guilt. It absorbs it all, then spits it back at you through cloudy swirls and burning eyes.
Chapter Five: Filter Forgiveness
It was not your fault. You tried. You hummed faithfully. But I let your cartridges clog. I let the dirt build up.
You cried out in quiet pressure spikes and flow reductions. And I? I ignored you.
Until the day you gave up. Then I blamed the water.
Now, I clean you with reverence. Like rinsing my own soul.
Chapter Six: The Breakthrough
After weeks of war, I tested the water and it was stable.
Chlorine, perfect. pH, peaceful. Filter, flowing. Me? Tired. But calm.
There is poetry in pool care. Not just in sparkle, but in struggle.
I do not trust the clear water anymore. Not without the effort behind it.
Chapter Seven: The Moral at the Bottom
You cannot neglect things and expect them to sparkle. You cannot throw in chemicals and expect them to fix what only care can.
Sometimes the clearest water hides the most chaos. Sometimes the murkiest thoughts are scrubbed clean with a simple pool brush.
So brush your walls. Shock your guilt. Rinse your filter. And maybe, just maybe, your mind will feel less cloudy too.
