Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
I made a decision when I was sick some months ago. Simple as sending an email when I couldn’t sleep to change, put things in reverse. And learn. Now in my second term, the water seems more welcoming. Still. It’s so much clearer. Each evening I leave my stuff at the water’s edge. And climb in slow.
I’m beginning to feel the difference between the deep and the shallow. Watching the ceiling through my backstroke, I’m moving through. Yes. I’m nightswimming.
I get tired. Then I mistake the glowing sign next door and think the moon is low tonight, but there is no moon at all. Time to rest.
Being new at this, I’m not sure all these people understand.
It’s not like years ago as a kid playing a game and failing. The fear of getting caught out, diving in, despite not really being taught. That was
recklessness in water. Or summers at the beach, sinking into the sand, watching the blue ringed octopus and getting burnt. Recklessness in sunshine.
Now I’m trusted. In the middle lane, watching the waves and the splashing as I kick. Fears: these things they go away, replaced by every day new achievements: making it to the end: completing a lap or more; setting my direction and reaching out. Not stopping. Not drowning. Just swimming.
The term keeps going even if September’s coming soon. Every week I long for the water and laugh at that sign, which gets me so I’m pining for the moon. While the bright tide forever drawn, could not describe nightswimming, in a high school pool, every Wednesday after the little kids watched on by their parents. Making memories. While it’s just me alone in my lane, night learning.
The expectation of water and warmth. My teachers are helping, as I start to find my rhythm. I’m breathing hard, but laughing quietly, underneath my breath, as I struggle yet improve. All due to these quiet times, night swimming.
With thanks to REM🙂