Last swim

I hadn't swam since the day I went to go see Katie, not counting the last night with Casey at Fagers when we went partly (or totally, depending on who's who) skinny-dipping late night between closing-time for the bar and getting our regular 3am pizza at Mambo's. That last night it was us grls, the four of us that were left, and Todd should of been there too but he wasn't which maybe was cuz of me or maybe wasn't, but in the end didn't matter bc it turned out to be us a ladies nite, us bareskinned and the hot blowing wind and water warm as a mother's hand. I hooted a lot that nite and floated along in the rough top surf then made sure we all had blankets and sheets to wrap ourselves with from the collection in my trunk. Monday was gold out, the water was blue and the air so clean and I stepped on to the sand in front of the hotel where I go to write and look at the sea, and as soon as my feet touched down I felt the loop in my heart which was Yes yes golden yes and I knew that I would swim.

And in my $12 WalMart bathing suit that looks hotter on me than all the other ones, I went in. The water was deep and twisted and rippy at first, I padded through then up on to the sand bar and watched the water just barely then cover my feet. I stood a long time. I waited, I watched. My skin was taught with shiver bumps and I breathed deep to keep my self warm. I kept walking after a while, got to a place where the current seemed sullen and the depth was thigh high. I dove under and swam the whole while underneath the waves, just using the kicking motion of my feet. I expected to easily get out beyond the break, where I go to float, but the waves had a mind to their own and that is the first time all summer, even counting the hurricane, that the ocean and I struggled together in my swim.

So, I let her take me where she would, floating all the while on my back. I finally stood when I realized the water level was only knee-high. I laughed out loud when I stood and discovered this, I am, I realized un-self-consciously, laughing out loud covered in wet beach sand and clumps of salt water hair and goosebumps, three families in the ankle surf just yards from me, so often alive inside my own natural state of childlike, intrinsic joy.

It hit me then, it is October. Summer is over. It really is.

I heard a cosmic door close last week, one that I walked through several years ago. I am just about out of the hall. I am happy about it, I am 33. I am moving on. It feels good. And I said so, I said so in whistles and grins and empty hands in the air, I delighted and I cleansed in and then I thanked the sea.