The water glared at me, and I glared right back. Its green glow simmered like envy itself, curling around every tile, swallowing my confidence whole. My hands shook as I dipped the pole into its depths, fishing for forgiveness in a pool that no longer trusted me.
Chapter One: The First Accusation
It started softly, like whispered doubt. A faint haze of green clung to the walls, a warning I brushed off with the arrogance of someone who thinks they’ve done everything right.
The test strip laughed at me, pale and pathetic in my hand. Numbers out of balance, mocking my ignorance. Chlorine barely detectable. pH sulking in the corner. I tossed the strip aside and said, “It’s fine.”
It was not fine.
That night, the water deepened in color. In the moonlight, it shimmered not blue but emerald, a gem poisoned by my neglect. I stood at the edge of the deck, barefoot and guilty, watching the algae dance below the surface like snakes.
Chapter Two: The Interrogation
I pulled out every test kit, every bottle, every gadget I owned. I measured and stirred, huffed and sighed, pacing like a detective with too many suspects.
Was it the rain? Was it the party last weekend? Was it me?
I leaned over the pool and saw my reflection warped in green. The answer was obvious.
It was me.
I skimmed leaves with a vengeance, pulling out debris like confessions from a liar. I scoured the skimmer basket and found it stuffed with guilt and grass. The filter was clogged again, groaning under the weight of everything I had ignored.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I whispered to the pump.
It sputtered in response.
Chapter Three: The Apology
At dawn, I stood at the shallow end, armed with shock and determination. My feet were cold on the concrete, but my resolve burned.
I sprinkled chlorine into the water like an offering, watching it fizz and swirl like anger meeting forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, brushing down the slimy walls. “I should have listened.”
I backwashed the filter, over and over, until the water ran almost honest again. The green began to fade, reluctantly, as though it was testing my sincerity.
Chapter Four: A Love Letter To My Pool
Dear Pool,
You deserved better. I thought I was giving you care, but I gave you excuses. I let the sun scorch you without covering your back. I let strangers dip their sunscreen-soaked bodies into you without so much as a rinse.
I let the rains dilute your strength and then blamed you for being weak.
But here I am now. Kneeling at your edge, skimmer in one hand, humility in the other.
Please forgive me.
Chapter Five: Redemption By Chlorine
The days that followed felt like penance.
Every morning, I tested your water, holding my breath as the numbers inched toward balance. I brushed you thoroughly, even the spots under the ladder I used to pretend didn’t matter.
I ran the pump longer. I emptied the baskets more often. I spoke to you, even when you didn’t answer.
And then, one morning, you shimmered blue again.
It was faint at first, like a blush after a fight. But it was there. The algae retreated like a sulking villain, leaving behind nothing but a faint memory and my bruised ego.
Chapter Six: Lessons In The Water
You taught me something I didn’t expect. Caring for you isn’t about dominance. It’s not about dumping more chemicals and hoping for the best. It’s about paying attention, respecting what you need, even when it’s inconvenient.
You are alive in your way, and you remember every mistake I make.
The balance is fragile, but beautiful. Like any relationship worth having.
Scribbled Notes On The Deck
If you find yourself standing where I stood, staring into the green depths of your guilt, here are my hard-earned notes:
- Never assume the water will stay balanced without your effort.
- Test the water regularly, even when it looks fine.
- Clean your filter and skimmer before blaming the water.
- Brush the walls and floor, especially in corners where jealousy hides.
- Do not overload your pool with guests without compensating with care.
- Cover the pool during heavy rain and hot sun to protect the chemistry.
Case Closed
Today the pool sparkles, but not because I conquered it. It sparkles because I finally learned to work with it instead of against it.
It taught me patience. It humbled me. And maybe, just maybe, it forgave me.
So here’s to you, my green-turned-blue teacher. You mirrored my flaws and made me better.
The water still watches me, but now, it nods in quiet approval.
Case closed.
