Spring. Summer. Swimming.

I miss the Wind.

Her running rush of fever.  So playful, so slighting.
And a spring-time summery butter yellow sunshine day.  Softening the face of the earth to malleable again.
I miss the Water.
Her crisp, siren song hello in all your nerves.
To be in control of the anarchy of all your feelings and thoughts.  Dishes handed off and passed around the table: “Can I?” to “I Can” to “I Shall”.
To leave the land behind.  To never look back.  It won’t ever be the same as when you left.
“Where can I take me?”
“How far can I go?”
The invisible hands of the water holding you aloft.  I am flying!
It’s not that there is no fear.  It’s not that there is no pain.  It’s not that there is no hard.
It’s just that there is more to me than all of that.
And the words we exchange, the Water and I, without ever speaking… when I know I can go on and even when I don’t.  As long as she lets me through.
Looking back.
Back at me.
My own eyes.
This reflection.
Dearest Alice – Water is the only mirror into which you can fall and find adventure.
And I miss It.
Soon –
When the pale, sweet cream frozen world so deathly still begins to brighten again.  And the distant dance of the frigid moon across long night skies has ended…
Patient.  Waiting.  Longing.
Soon.
We shall again.
Be swimming!

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