An Afternoon Swim

A ribbon of reflection cuts through you, heating your core. The skin on your arms and legs still stings from the cold wet. You didn't know you could swim this far. You are stronger than you realized.

Everything will be okay, you start to tell yourself, then stop. You set a goal for yourself: swim to the next buoy. Halfway there, you note an abundance of seaweed and filth. The other was cleaner. You turn around, wonder whether you can make it to the buoy beyond the one in front of you.

Ten, eleven, twelve. When did you start counting your strokes? Switching from breaststroke to sidestroke. Right side: 30. Left side: 30. But you lose count, set a new goal: the second buoy. You roll in the water onto your stomach again, return to the breaststroke, invigorated. You are stronger than you realized.

Everything will be... No. Don't say that. You used to believe that, but not now. After the nights in the shelter and seeing your friends on the street, you know everything does not turn out okay for everyone, just for some people. You used to say it to yourself and everyone else, even when all evidence pointed to the contrary. People praised you for your faith.

You're making progress. The buoy is closer. You look back and see you're exactly halfway between the first buoy and the second one. You're stronger than you realized.

One, two, three. You're counting again, for no apparent reason. The water here is even dirtier than it was on the other side. Seaweed and oil float on the surface. You swim around a piece of hair. A motor sounds overhead, but the sky appears cloudless and empty. The horizon is that perfect blend of sherbet colors: pale pink fading into mint green fading into the blue with no demarcation lines anywhere.

You're almost there. You usually turn around when you near a goal, get discouraged, tired, frustrated, give up in front of the finish line. This time you will make it. You are stronger than you realized.

Maybe it's the yoga or the running. You're almost there. Yes, the water is polluted. When you were a kid, it was clean. Now, it's polluted, and you're exerting yourself. These could be reasons to stop, get out of the water, rinse off at the outdoor shower. But you're almost there.

You can rest soon. You're stronger than you realized. Everything will be. You stop the thought before it continues it's Pollyanna spiel. You can say, "everything will be," because that you can guarantee. Everything will be. Why qualify it?

This is it; the final stroke. You reached the goal. You go a little further, wanting to surpass it to be sure you actually did it. There. Now the buoy is behind you. You did it. You reached your goal. You are stronger than you realize.

Everything will be, and maybe that is okay.