When I was a child we spent our summers at the lake. I alternated between reading on my beach towel, playing in the water, and building things in the sand. My favorite thing to do was to float on my back looking up at the clouds and enjoying the muffled sounds that meant I was free to ignore everyone. It was a feeling of deep peace, of only hearing what is important. Having children has profoundly disturbed that inner peace, the knowledge of what to listen for. They are quite literally my heart running around outside my chest, and I have forgotten how to be at peace if they are not.
Until tonight, at swim class, we are learning the back strokes, and suddenly there I was ears muffled looking up. I could have done that all night. It was better than any sort of therapy. I think I'm going to have to join the Saline Recreational Center. The place is unpretentious, smartly practical, and my swim instructor is an angel. There's lots of great amenities, and everything is busy and well-used. I fit in there.
It is a great find--a place to remember myself.
