Night Swimming

When you swim at night, there are no bees. 

The kids are in bed so there are no demands being made to hold them, jump with them, watch them, throw them, help them. 

It's just you and your body and the night and water.

You move smoothly through the tepid water like sliding through velvet. This is what you imagine a cloud would feel like if you could touch one.

A floating, weightless, deep, soft pool of something that all at once is and isn't there.

Under water there aren't any sounds.

The world drops down to a muted distance, so much so that your thoughts hush too.

No replays of your last fight with your boyfriend, no repetetive thoughts about things that need to be done, no stress, no worries, no cursing all the things you forgot to do but didn't.

The world drops down to a muted distance, so much so that your thoughts hush too.

Just bubbles, the swoosh of your arms or legs cutting through the water.

You feel your body stretch and move and you feel powerful.

Strong.

Night swimming is good for you.

It's important to be weightless, effortless, and silent.

To shrug off the heat and the sound and the mistakes of life, and sink down to the very very bottom of something so cool, so soft, so quiet.

It's important to remember what your body is capable of.
That you are not the sum total of your scars, your jiggly thighs, your soft tummy.
That you are still just as strong as you ever were.
That you are still weightless.
You are still limitless.
You are still perfect.

You are still free.