I passed by bright white snow berries on my way to the beach today.
At the shore, waves tipped with white caps crashed in coating the beach with white foam, fuzzy and thick, completely obscuring the rocks and pebbles and crushed shells beneath.
Across the water, below a bright December sky crowded with clouds, the Olympics stood wearing deep blankets of snow—the cold shawls of winter, there to remind me that winter has only just begun.
A bright pile of clothes, shoes, and a rainbow COVID mask lay piled on the small rock wall—and a can of Crisco, swim cap and Spit Spray for defogging goggles. All familiar items—yes, my friend Dave was in the water.
Soon an orange buoy caught my eye, and the familiar bare brown arms of this hearty skin swimmer. He passed by headed north, beating through high waves and from the beach I could just make out his new blue snowflake swim cap—my token gift to Dave, my first open water teacher and swim companion.
I waited to welcome him in, and cheer on his success. Through stiff lips and a warm half frozen smile, he asked if I was getting in, as he assured me the water felt warmer today.
I had been on the fence, but seeing him come ashore refreshed and happy was all the motivation I needed. I would opt for my full attire, I told him, as a skin swim in underwear was not sounding very appealing. I left him to change and defrost and skipped home with my mutt for my selkie suit.
When I returned a short while later, the wind was still strong and after bobbing through the icy chop, pushing off the bottom with my toes, dancing the cold away and mucking about until the water seeped in through my selkie armor, I made for the mouth of Fletcher Bay, and a calm swim through the still, murky waters.
Breathing came easy and my freestyle strokes came steadily as I rounded the bay and bright winter sunlight cast rays of light into the water around me, giving the water a yellowish green glow as I passed by trees onshore, glowing in a symphony of green. I was reminded of the swims of last summer when the sunlight danced off the bottom and the clear water lit up the infinite treasures below. I wondered where all the critters hide out now, and peered about without spotting one single fish, crab or even clam bubble. Not even a seal showed today. Only seabirds and ducks seemed to be out today, keeping watch over the bay.
My hands felt like blocks of ice, my feet complained all afternoon post swim and tonight my shoulders are tired to the bone, and still I am thankful and so grateful for the gift of open water swimming.
I had a lot to give to the water today. And the water took hold of it all—my pandemic-weary self, my cagey cabin fever, my heartache and grief, and floated my cares away on the waves for a spell, like a bunch of snow berries.
My thoughts and worries still float about, the water can’t make them go away, but they dilute them and wash them.
If I work at it, gratitude, love, generosity, compassion, and creativity grow bigger, swelling up like an ocean to make me stronger still—the kind of person I wish to be, and what I wish for my sons.
My little snow berries. Clinging to little branches, full of possibility.
Mary Swims 
✨❄️🎉❄️✨