It started quietly. A soft green shadow creeping along the walls, whispering that I hadn’t done enough. I stared at the water, hoping it would forgive me. But pools, like secrets, don’t forget.
I dipped the brush into the water and began to scrub.
Each stroke felt like confession.
Chapter One: The Green Truth
I thought I was diligent. Shocking the pool weekly, sprinkling chlorine like fairy dust, testing the pH with fingers crossed. But below the surface, the algae laughed.
It hid in the corners, clinging to the steps, lounging behind the ladder.
And I, foolish, busy, proud; let it grow.
It spread slowly, slyly, painting the walls with guilt.
When I finally saw it for what it was, I felt it in my stomach. Heavy. Shameful.
The pool water shimmered above my reflection, judging me silently.
Chapter Two: The Brush As A Pen
That night, I dreamed the brush was a pen and the walls were my journal.
In the morning, I woke and wrote my apology with bristles and effort.
Push. Pull. Scrub.
With every stroke, I remembered what I had ignored. The dirty skimmer basket I’d left full. The neglected filter groaning under my laziness. The test strip that lied to make me feel better.
The algae smeared into clouds of regret as I brushed, turning the water into a swirling confession.
Chapter Three: The Chlorine Sermon
I sprinkled shock like holy water, praying it would cleanse my sins.
But guilt lingers longer than chlorine.
I stood on the deck, watching the water bubble and hiss. The smell of chemicals filled the air like a stern sermon.
Still, I brushed.
Still, I repented.
The steps grew whiter. The corners surrendered their green. The water began to look less like a secret and more like forgiveness.
Chapter Four: The Filter’s Confession
When I opened the filter, I expected anger. Instead, I found quiet resignation. Layers of dirt, leaves, and memories pressed together like pages of a neglected diary.
I cleaned it gently, whispering apologies into the pleats.
Each rinse felt like penance.
Chapter Five: Clarity
By sunset, the water sparkled with relief. Not perfect, but honest.
I stood back, exhausted and lighter, and the pool finally smiled back at me.
It wasn’t just about chlorine or pH or brushing algae pool walls. It was about showing up, owning the neglect, and making it right.
A Love Letter To My Pool
Dear Pool,
You deserved better than my excuses. You deserved care in the quiet moments, not just when things turned ugly.
I see now that every speck of algae was a reflection of my avoidance, every cloud of murk a symptom of my pride.
Thank you for waiting. For letting me make it right. For teaching me that sometimes, redemption starts with a brush in hand.
Sincerely,
Your humbled caretaker
Lessons Learned:
- Brush often, even when the water seems fine.
- Don’t ignore the filter. It remembers everything.
- Test your water, but don’t trust just one number.
- A pool doesn’t forgive laziness, but it does reward effort.
- Brushing algae pool walls is more than maintenance, it’s a ritual.
What began as an embarrassing chore turned into a quiet reckoning. My pool was never just a pool. It was a teacher.
And now, finally, I am listening.
