You Never Regret a Swim

                                                       You Never Regret a Swim

 

The other day, driving home, for no reason other then the turn onto my street, the sudden realization that this is what I do every day, turn left here and skip the stop sign, push the garage door opener too soon only to have to push it again once I am nearer, pull up to the mail box before turning into the driveway and then make my way into the garage, for no other reason, I had a flash of the flash that will happen right before I die; The highlight reel of my life that’s supposed to play before me as a way to calm my fears. I sat in the car inside the garage and let it all flow before me. The Grateful Dead on the radio setting the soundtrack for this glimpse of what was great in my life.

It is simple really, not unlike what I suppose it would really be, pleasant even, how one would hope it would be.  It is moments of me in various bodies of water. In Antarctica running from the Antarctic sea into the welcoming volcanic hot springsdug in the sand.  Drinking the Russian vodka in the paper cups the crew passed around for us. Who knows how they secured Russian vodka in Ushuaia before we set sail?  Skinny dipping in Nice under a full moon. The first time I ever skinny dipped.  Feeling for the first time like I was an adult, capable of making my own decisions. Feeling foolish and brave at the same time. Jumping off the bridge by Mishawaka. Still the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Swimming in the super secret swimming hole that most unusual spring. My first dive in Puerto Viejo. The feeling of needing to surface. My most recent dive in Belize, calm beneath the ocean. The glacial lake in Tierra Del Fuego. I didn’t last long in. The blow up swimming pool in Karen’s backyard. It summed up an entire summer to me, yet was only three days. Going to the beach every weekend in Hawaii, passing the pineapple fields on the drive. My brother and I boogie boarding, eating sandwiches with sand in them as we dried in the sun.  The pool I swam the length of even though it was freezing, to gain access to the park in Panamain lieu of the entrance fee.  The hotel pool in Comayagua we went to every Sunday and called church. The waterfall I climbed in Malaysia.  The falls we hiked to in Costa Rica to swim underneath. Climbing in the cave behind the Pulhapanzak waterfall in Honduras. The second scariest thing I’ve even done. I choose then not to jump the ten feet down. Tubing down the Poudre with a beer can in my hand.  Jumping from the zodiac of the Navimag in the archipelagos of Chile, swimming so close to the ship.  The sprinkler I let spray in the early days of June to jump in and out of when the sun became unbearable only to return again to my spot on the lawn chair in the middle of my yard.

I sat in my car and remembered all these moments, felt all these moments and thought how extremely happy I was during all of them. And I hoped one day there might be a flash to see before I die that might include you.

You Never Regret a Swim

                                                       You Never Regret a Swim

 

The other day, driving home, for no reason other then the turn onto my street, the sudden realization that this is what I do every day, turn left here and skip the stop sign, push the garage door opener too soon only to have to push it again once I am nearer, pull up to the mail box before turning into the driveway and then make my way into the garage, for no other reason, I had a flash of the flash that will happen right before I die; The highlight reel of my life that’s supposed to play before me as a way to calm my fears. I sat in the car inside the garage and let it all flow before me. The Grateful Dead on the radio setting the soundtrack for this glimpse of what was great in my life.

It is simple really, not unlike what I suppose it would really be, pleasant even, how one would hope it would be.  It is moments of me in various bodies of water. In Antarctica running from the Antarctic sea into the welcoming volcanic hot springs dug in the sand.  Drinking the Russian vodka in the paper cups the crew passed around for us. Who knows how they secured Russian vodka in Ushuaia before we set sail?  Skinny dipping in Nice under a full moon. The first time I ever skinny dipped.  Feeling for the first time like I was an adult, capable of making my own decisions. Feeling foolish and brave at the same time. Jumping off the bridge by Mishawaka. Still the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Swimming in the super secret swimming hole that most unusual spring. My first dive in Puerto Viejo. The feeling of needing to surface. My most recent dive in Belize, calm beneath the ocean. The glacial lake in Tierra Del Fuego. I didn’t last long in. The blow up swimming pool in Karen’s backyard. It summed up an entire summer to me, yet was only three days. Going to the beach every weekend in Hawaii, passing the pineapple fields on the drive. My brother and I boogie boarding, eating sandwiches with sand in them as we dried in the sun.  The pool I swam the length of even though it was freezing, to gain access to the park in Panama in lieu of the entrance fee.  The hotel pool in Comayagua we went to every Sunday and called church. The waterfall I climbed in Malaysia.  The falls we hiked to in Costa Rica to swim underneath. Climbing in the cave behind the Pulhapanzak waterfall in Honduras. The second scariest thing I’ve even done. I choose then not to jump the ten feet down. Tubing down the Poudre with a beer can in my hand.  Jumping from the zodiac of the Navimag in the archipelagos of Chile, swimming so close to the ship.  The sprinkler I let spray in the early days of June to jump in and out of when the sun became unbearable only to return again to my spot on the lawn chair in the middle of my yard.

I sat in my car and remembered all these moments, felt all these moments and thought how extremely happy I was during all of them. And I hoped one day there might be a flash to see before I die that might include you.