This summer’s been really full. With a very full work schedule, Love Lettering Project-ing, and completing draft #3 of my manuscript (and gardening, pickling, picnicking and swimming thrown into the mix), it’s been a non-stop juggling act.
So when a dear friend floated the idea of a cottage, I jumped at the chance. Lake swimming, deck writing, canoe-ing (I can stern! Who knew?!), happy hour gin and tonic-ing, starry sky skinny dipping and late night s’mores completed this summer in ways I didn’t even know I needed.
And we’ve decided it’s a tradition now, though next summer, we’re gunning for weeks (yup, plural!).
We swim straight across the lake,
the sun green under the surface.
You are afraid of what’s underneath,
and close your eyes tight,
whereas I, don’t think about what I can’t see,
even though out of the two of us, I am far more fearful,
Though if you ask when I am
back on the semi-solid surface of the dock,
I will admit am terrified of drowning,
all of those lifeguarding classes
didn’t make me brave, or more confident
but only more certain of drowning.
I only believe though this when we’re lying on the too-bright towels
that smell of Bounce and damp,
and you are reminding me of how difficult beginnings can be.
Mid-lake, it’s just arms and hands pulling through the green,
the sound of breath in my ears,
the water falling back on itself,
and echoing against the shoreline.