Legacy can be a name on a bench at the pool you guarded for ten summers. Small places remember faithful people.

Small places keep count in ways large ones cannot. Ten summers in the same seat means hundreds of people know your face, several learned to swim from you, and somebody eventually puts your name on something, which is a kind of remembering that brief visibility never produces. Staying in one location is the entire mechanism. You only have to be there long enough for it to add up.

If you are somewhere like that now, the years are doing something even on the slow days. Have a look at the names already on benches where you live, because each was somebody who kept showing up.