I look across the water from the beach. The surface, chopped up by wind.
Gusty, the weather said of today.
It will be a tough swim, I think. But I know I like it that way.
At first plunge, I do not feel the spray rising as my face does to breathe.
Until I am strokes out into the middle, still watching Saturday strollers along the sand.
They seem so far away, I think. But then I remember I like it that way.
I swim to get away.
The deep deep center.
A moment of panic rises in me.
What if I were to just sink. Right here, right now?
And I imagine going down. Down into the deep green.
Then it strikes me just what little control I really have.
How all my life, your life, how little control we really have.
But how the difference between sinking and swimming
is keeping going
Keeping going to get back to shore.