Oh hello again. It’s me. I haven’t done much since the last time we spoke, other than eat Cheese-Its and day dream about owning a puppy/cheese farm.
How have you been? Well, I hope. Maybe you’ve bought a new pair of shoes since the last time we met, or you are trying out a new fruity perfume, listening to a new band, giving Vegan-ism a go. Whatever it is, I hope you’re happy and healthy and embracing spring and drinking cocktails on rooftops.
The weather is finally getting warmer in New York. Tulips are popping up as if on cue and people are starting to dine outside more, making the walk through my neighborhood enjoyable. Strolling past the brownstones, the smell of coffee grinds, salty bagels, lavender scones filters through the air — frequently driving me into shops to purchase a sweet treat or afternoon pick-me-up.
One of my favorite springtime habits is to look forward to summer, to plan ahead and “get it together”. Lists and lists of things to do, places to eat, people to see and experiences to have fill my journal, my notebooks, scrap paper in my purse. A word that often graces these pages every year is “swim”, and the goal is to do it as much as possible.
As a kid, one of my favorite things about camp was Free Swim. I thrived in the water and lived for that very first dive — the one where my skin was hot from an afternoon of sunbathing, where my nails were coated in dirt and body tired from running around outside. The one where the water would wash away the day’s stress and fatigue with a quick brush of silky coolness, the underwater silence ushering out all sounds, if only just for a moment.
Swimming, for me, is like a re-birth, a renewal — as cheesy at that sounds. We spend so much time connecting to one another, talking, moving, working that it feels so unique and utterly special to just close that all out, shut it off. Under water we are weightless, and the worries and never-ending stream of emails, complaints, texts, calls just slip away, for a brief second.
So, here is to welcoming back this blog (again), and to you, for coming back (again) to read all things, anything (s) I might have to say, and to spring, summer and that first dive of the season.
Photographs and poem above: 1, 2, and 3: me, age 7, under water.