Strangely enough, jumping into a pool and doing laps has topped my list of what I feel like doing at any given moment, even surpassing the yearning for dark chocolate. I wake up and wonder if I might go swimming today. Or I stop whatever I’m doing mid-afternoon and head to the pool (keeping a bathing suit and towel in the car at all times is one of the best decisions I’ve made in ages). Or after dinner, I walk out to car to pluck out my bathing suit, put it on, and head back into town.
I only do breast stroke, a version I improvise on of sidestroke, and a kind of backstroke I hardly ever see in the world (kind of like breast stroke on my bath). I’ve never gotten the hang of crawl without inhaling water up my nose. Whatever I do instead barely gets me across the water, but it’s enough. Enough floating and moving forward. Enough immersing my face in the cool water and then rising up to take in the clouds and trees. Enough room in the lap lane to move slowly back and forth, steady for 30-40 minutes (the length of time it takes me to do 12-15 laps).
There are a lot of difficult challenges out of my control lately from the Kansas state government to one of my workplaces. I’ve been at several memorial services within the last week, not to mention landing back at the beginning of finding some ways for my new writing to reach publication. One of the cars needs work, and it could be expensive, and Shay the dog keeps scattering banana peels from the compost on the kitchen floor. But when I drop myself into the water and start moving, I’m enveloped in the motion of peace, which is why I’m ending this post to tug my bathing suit into place so I can head back to the pool