Beginning Again

I placed my toes against the wall and slid softly into the pool, trying to make as little disturbance as possible.  I took my breath and sunk below the surface.  A quiet prayer in the pause just before the poetry.  One push and I am flying.  And in the motion passing forward, the water carries all the debris of the physical world away in a most perfect baptism.

For the time between the first ripple and the first breath, I am home again.

Home.

And as I find the surface and begin to swim, I am so taken with the familiar conversation with my friend, the water.  In the way of best friendships, there was so much to catch up on and – after an awkward moment or two – not a fleck of discomfort.   I was thrilled to find myself once again in such dear company.

I found the grooves of forward motion.  I found the place of reaching and believing.  I swam through the thick fog of glad and sweet memories – of pitch black mornings and a coffee to match.  Long drives and snowy winter roads.  Of summer sun horizons and endless lakes of adventure.  I laughed and the bubbles danced around my ears and passed behind me with the wake.

I missed you, I thought.

I hadn’t missed the pain and the exhaustion and the swallowing dedication… I was glad to be moving on to something new.  But I know I was awarded the most glorious crucible.  I was born again in the pools and the lakes and the rivers and the ocean.

The water still speaks to me in a way only she can.  I am beautiful in a way that a dress doesn’t capture.  I am comfortable.  I am confident.  I am everything I need and want.

Ever so grateful.  Just to be.

Just to be beginning again.

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