At nine am the world is a warm grey embrace. My house is still, sitting on its haunches waiting for the day to start. I outrun the thunder they say will come and go to Walden.
Pin heads like silver tadpoles scatter on my windshield. The air, wet with the tears it holds back, inhales them as I accelerate along the vacant lot of route two. The gift from the sky complete in the minutes that have past me.
In water, sensing the power, I remember back to the first swims, when as an odd legged frog, I wondered why I bothered to try. Water now running with me smooth as green glass. Aquabliss.
My lungs large and full, exploding air sacs waiting for release.
I have waited all day for the clouds to break releasing the sun from their claws. Writing and watching behind glass panes the sheets wrung out from the sky.
At two, when I am done reliving the past on paper. My life in worser years, summers I do not want to return to, the sun blinks glaring stares from beyond places I know.
In water, I reach forward into the uncertainty of future. Every fistful finding air and drops to pull myself up on. And that which will always elude me becomes my goal.
Tomorrow is another unknown.
Even in the slice of my life that focuses around Walden, ( and I understand that getting a swim in, is really of small significance in relation to many of life’s problems), I find I am constantly reminded to stay open and flexible in my thoughts and needs.
There was a time when I found this incredibly challenging. I had to run. I had to swim. It’s in the schedule so therefore…it has to be. (In my experience, becoming a parent is a great way to start to peel away at this rigidity.)
Today, when “the plan” doesn’t go as I would first like…thunder grumbles as I make my morning coffee, warning me not to swim…and then it continues to do so for the next four or five hours, and the flash flood warning, once announced in Middlesex county, persists, I am challenged to rethink the schedule and perhaps be content with possibility of “not.”
I still find this is a challenge … To be content with what is, and not what I want to be. Then I remember it will work out the way it is meant to, so I should to relax, “enjoy the ride” and see what I can learn from it.