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.
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.