There is nothing in daily life that mimics the feeling of floating. Not in a shallow tub. Not in a swimming pool. But in the center of a pond in the middle of the woods on the top of a mountain, naked.
Nothing.
Supported by silken water, it flows into the small of my back, beneath my arms, my legs. Cradles my head.
Breathing in, my body rises and expands. Breathing out, it falls deep down into the cooler depths, and back again.
Nothing but breath. Nothing but water filling in all my curves, contouring itself to me, for once, to me.
Breathe in, up. Breathe out, down.
I am rising and falling on the surface of the earth, my skin on her skin.
Eyes closed, I can see myself more clearly than ever before, a tiny speck of natural beauty surrounded by the same. I am a part of, not apart from. My pale suburban skin soaking up the sun, the fresh air, the life beneath and above me. My edges blend and merge with the water’s edges.
How long can I stay like this? How long until I am pulled back to shore? Time, you don’t have to stop, but please just move unperceptively. Let me spin slowly like a leaf on the surface of the water, let me feel a single ripple like a slow-motion ocean wave. Hold space for me.
Let me float here a little longer.
It’s my thoughts that bring me back, that catch and reel me in like fake worms to a hungry fish. The line attaching me to shore reappears and pulls me back in. I want to stay forever, but feel selfish for staying this long.
The water feels heavy on my arms as I swim back. It’s different, now. I’m different.
It is so silent inside me. Am I still alive or have I somehow drowned, separated from my body without knowing it? Has my body sunk beneath the water and left my spirit to swim to shore alone? Is letting go that easy?
A moment of panic wafts over me. No. It’s not possible.
The water is shallow now, voices of others coming over it. Kids laughing, adults chattering. Summer sounds. I am touching land again, crawling to the shoreline on my hands, letting my legs float behind me.
And there he is. My son. He is what brings me back. Every time.