I passed the class and decided to apply this very same method to another tiresome class, P.E. My best friend Annette and me would leave school (cut out of gym) and ride in her black Javelin to a great little Greek diner not far away. We ate super fresh French fries smothered in ketchup and chatted about life in general. It was a good system. Towards the end of the year, when it warmed up in spring, I swam after school in the Olympic-sized pool. Sometimes I had the whole thing to myself.
Yesterday I cried for the water.
The water is my escape, it’s the place between the heavy, solid every day and the spirit world. It’s where I float and glide, it’s where I become part of the bigger world, the fish, the rocks, the low-hanging trees, and the sand made of millions of sea shells. It’s the element that would heal me, or let me forget pain and anxiety. The ocean heals, the lake and river balances, and pools let me swim with abandon knowing I won’t hit rocks or be swept out to sea.