I am hereby (un) officially proclaiming October 2nd Salish Selkie Day.
Yesterday, beneath a brilliant autumnal sun and blue skies, I coached my group of middle school swimmers through the rubbery wrestling match that is putting on a wetsuit.
Excitement ran high as the kids slowly and clumsily donned these thick skins, with the promise of a much warmer swim then last week leading to collective happy chatter as we agreed on a (safe) plan for a deep water swim to a nearby float.
One exuberant boy whom last week claimed that the cold didn’t affect him, was most eager yesterday to clamber in to his wetsuit, and needed the most instruction in understanding how to flatten the folds from the ankles up, listening intently with a delightful curiosity and determination I appreciated.
Nearby a girl silently worked on her suit, and I glanced up just late enough to discover that she had worked very hard to get it half way up her slender body—backwards. There was no choice—in my kindest voice I instructed her that she needed to start over, with the zipper on the back. With grace and a smiling eye roll she began again, as I apologized for missing this mistake earlier in the process.
Once the group was transformed into two-legged seals, with four swim buoys at the ready—one for each swimmer—I took the first frantic teen pod out to the float while the others splashed and dove with gusto in the shallows.
Out at the float my selkies quickly clambered up, to enjoy time flinging their beaming faces and cozy bodies into the salty water.
One small 7th grade boy, whom just last week met this group of classmates in person for the first time, found his confidence and a new friend atop the float. This watery adventure and the camaraderie afforded by this shared delight, transformed these strangers—instant friends were born.
I watched from my position treading water nearby, as this petit 7th grader snuck up behind his new friend, an 8th grader twice his size and pushed him in.
The 8th grade boy popped up from the depths beaming. The new friendship was sealed.
I invited the pod to join me for a short swim to two nearby pilings, where spider crabs often roam. We circled around, peering in, greeted by one crab and clusters of barnacles several inches thick.
A full hour and four trips later, all of the kids enjoyed multiple trips out to the float—the number one desire of every young swimmer. And dear Catherine, with a brave laugh, boldly led her son and the rest of the boys to the float for a spell—likely deafened by the peals of laughter and verbal jests tossed about among the group.
My favorite sweet moment was the last trip out to the float, in the company of the three girls. Equally happy and equally confident in this cold water, they bobbed out to the raft for the final plunges of the day.
I relished this moment, together in the company of these young girls, sharing in the joy of a unique freedom found only in the open water.
To feel weightless, and brave and powerful and supported, loved and in love with a watery world and sweet companions.
What more could anyone ask for?
Mary Swims 