Hell is not a fiery pit: it’s a dim-bulb parking structure with no exit.
Remember it? The setting of magical summers. Wrinkled fingers and toes meant a long day filled with underwater adventures. The place where accomplishment was born: swimming the entire length of the pool without coming up for air. Gasp. Yes, made it! Gasp. The place that gave you the most intense hunger pains you’d ever known. A big plate of food never tasted so good. Seconds? Yes, please. OK, you’re ready to go back in the pool now. You don’t want to wait fifteen minutes for your food to digest. Do I have to, Mom? Fine. Fifteen minutes go by too slow—much slower than the four hours you’ve already been playing in the pool. Back in! Finally. Games. Marco Polo. Colors. No, sun, don’t go away! You need the light. After sunset, the darkness comes, and the darkness transforms the pool into a terrifying black sea swarming with sharks and monsters. How did they get in there? Through the drain, of course. Time to get out and back on land where it’s safe. Brrr! Shivers. You wrap yourself in that huge, soft beach towel. That feels good. Warmth. The couch looks comfortable. Cartoons are on TV. But your energy is gone. The pool took it from you. Your eyelids are heavy … way too heavy. Sleep. The best sleep.