As told to Nama Winston.
When I invited my friend Georgie* over to enjoy our sparkling new pool, I never thought it would be the last time I saw her as friends.
Or that she wouldn’t even get in.
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My husband, David, and I painstakingly renovated our home over two years, had a year’s break to financially recover, and then put in a medium-sized swimming pool.
What felt like hundreds of arguments, years of living in a house that was being renovated with three kids under seven, while both of us continuing to work so we could pay for it all, and we were finally there.
It wasn’t a big, fancy reno. We’d deliberately bought in a cheaper suburb so we could have some land at the back for the kids to play – and for a decent-sized pool.
We were a family of swimmers. David and I had both been lucky enough to have pools when we were kids, and we started our babies early with swimming lessons, too.
We really wanted our kids to have the kind of fun summers we’d grown up with, basically living around the family pool.
When we finally had it installed, it felt like the jewel in the crown.