These feet got me in the water and back home again today.
Whatever absence of energy I had yesterday dissolved this afternoon. Today I couldn’t wait to swim again.
I always walk barefoot along the gravel road and ivy-lined trail to the waters edge behind my house. It’s more than knowing I have nothing to go back for if I need to cut my swim short—bare feet is freedom. I have all I need, utterly self contained. And barefoot allows me time to literally absorb the coolness of the earth from the ground up before full submersion in the salty brine that is Fletcher Bay. My bay. I’ve claimed it as my liquid home, but really I know I’m just a visitor, passing through. Thank you, I say, to the thousands of generous hosts burbling above and below the glowing expanse of water.
Today I swam with my friend, Dave. As we stood on the muddy bank lined with cedar trees, donning our caps and goggles, I remarked that I hoped to see a seal again sometime. Dave reminded me that they are likely to appear again soon, with Fall on its way and the salmon returning.
“Oh right!” I said with a smile.
As we slowly entered the still waters I took some long slow breaths and looked out wondering what I might see in the bay this time. Another starfish? A stinging jellyfish? Wondered what adventures awaited.
The swim began. We headed out, the water a soft green, nary a speck of seaweed, twig or leaf. Just pure water. It was perfect. The sun had warned the top later just enough to take the chill off.
We continued on, with each sweep forward my mind eased open, and I let go a little. The swim trance was strong and I felt strong, like I could swim clear out of the bay without a break.
And then Dave stopped. During one of my periodic site checks to survey my watery home, checking for boats, docks, and of course my swim partner I saw that Dave had paused.
“Look,” Dave said and pointed.
And there she was. A glimmering seal head not more than 15 feet away.
Instinctively we got quiet and slowly swam towards her. Hungry to have a moment with her. I was so grateful in that moment that Dave was with me to notice her and give us pause, as my trance was such I am sure I would never have noticed her there.
The bay was calm and absent of any other human visitors. We circled around, peering below the surface hoping to catch a glimpse of this lovely animal once more. She showed her head again and then dove down. “What I would give to swim like that!” I thought.
Again I peered into the waters, and to my left I spied her. Her speckled grey-white torpedo body glided by about 10 feet away, and as soon as my mind caught up to the vision before me she was gone again. I know I saw her, but it was so fleeting it seemed almost unreal.
So, in the moment I wasn’t looking for this seal she appeared. That’s life isn’t it. We look so hard for things, purpose, order and answers but they are never where we expect them to be. And often there are no answers especially. Just more questions. Maybe that’s the magic. Maybe that’s why wonder is such an important state of mind.
Today I wondered about what I might see. I expected to not see a seal today, it’s not Fall yet. But there she was. Today. Sharing her home with us, a most generous host.
Outside of the bay, heading south to our one-mile mark, this seal appeared again. Like a long goodbye I like to think she was giving us a warm send off. Or maybe she too was just wondering about us. Maybe wondering how us leggy, noisy, clumsy creatures manage to swim with such terribly designed flippers.
But, they are my flippers. They are all I need to swim in this watery refuge from time to time.
Thank you for sharing your home with us.
Mary Swims 