Grasping

Girls of October
( photo: Carol Moore)

I'm feeling it this morning: the cold, harsh reality that summer cannot --

will not --

hold on.

I see my breath in the air.
(Cannot, will not, hold on).

I know this. And yet I keep trying.

Why do I try, when I know there's no holding on?

I need acceptance. I just need to breathe and transition to the chlorine.
And, yet.
The open water has become more and more my Prozac. I don't want to transition. It feels like such a damned metaphor.

It's Monday. It's October. It's cold.

And, I can see my damned breath in the air.

And all I want is to swim.

I want the bright hues of summer. I want to run my toes in the sand, to feel the sun on my face, to stroke under blue skies, through the waves, through the bliss, through the promise.

But this morning, there's no promise. Only cold, gray skies. And no mistaking my vaporous breath in the air.

- gae