Dipping my toe in the shallow end (the water’s fine)

last night, we talked about swimming. i realized i hadn’t swum in months–maybe even a year. i haven’t swum because i don’t like sharing the water. we had a pool in our backyard growing up, and i never had to worry about interruptions in my laps or glances at my imperfect curves.

rama told me about swimming pools, rivers and oceans where he used to swim. i closed my eyes and imagined the current lifting my body and pulling me along. i thought about holding my breath and slipping through tunnels. i wished right then i was floating on my back and squinting at the sun. i would have been happy just sitting on the pavement, dangling my legs over the edge of a swimming pool.

i had forgotten how much i loved the water. how i used to spend all day long, all summer long, in our backyard pool, only getting out to eat popsicles and pee. how we used to pretend we were mermaids and synchronize swimmers. how i used to sink to the bottom for a moment alone.

my mom would call us in when she came home from work, and i’d pretend i didn’t hear her. she’d warn me that my skin was getting wrinkly and dark, but i didn’t care what she said. i didn’t care what anyone said. i just did it because i loved it.

i wish i could go back to being that fearless, playful little girl. i know she’s in here somewhere. i want her to come back out and play.

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