December 31, 2020

A toast to the Salish Sea, and the many friends made in and out of the water.

It only seemed right to close out the last day of the year, this year, with a swim with Dave, my open water swimming mentor, friend and neighbor.

The water was choppy and a strong southerly wind battered us about for our 1/2 mile swim along the beach south of Fletcher’s Landing. I swallowed record amounts of water, as I was tossed about in thick green water, keeping my eye on Dave’s bright orange buoy as we bounced along.

He made faster time than me and I zigzagged awkwardly along behind him, trying to keep up. Several times I paused to catch my breath amongst the high waves to find Dave circling back to stay nearby me, checking in, making sure I was okay.

I don’t think I would have made it out of the gate today, had Dave not been there to keep me moving forward, out into the cold, into the deep, of the Salish Sea. This last afternoon of 2020 was grey and cold, and the water looked unfriendly and harsh—a bit like the year we’ve just had.

I fought the urge to turn back with the first step into the water, as Dave finished getting ready. But this had been my idea—I had invited him, and I knew that I couldn’t back out. I knew I would be glad I went, and I’d even brought hot cocoa along for us to enjoy afterwards. And I was the one covered head to toe in neoprene, save my hands and face, while Dave dove in with nothing but his speedo, cap and goggles—and a bit of Crisco to prevent skin rash. I had no excuse.

As we took to the water and let the cold sink in, I said I thought I could make it to the beach house today, but not further. Dave kindly agreed and said it is important to know your limits and not to push it, especially in this cold water. On his own he likely would have gone twice as far I am sure, but was happy to keep me company and take a shorter swim. I was grateful.

Back on land over our hot cocoa, we watched the sky darken and out in the waves a seal appeared. For just a moment, I held my breath and watched her move northward through the waves. The last seal sighting of 2020.

As the entire world looks back on this year, trying to piece together and process so very much, I wonder what is worth holding onto. There is so much that we can’t forget, should not forget, that is dark and cold and cruel, but there is also so much that is good and true and expansive that we must also not forget.

My resolution is to keep holding on to the best of what feeds me, challenges me and helps me feel free, and give back in new ways. I plan to play more music, learn more songs and make more art too.

In the end, the freedom I find in the open water is the same freedom I crave on land. To feel connected to the world directly around me, moving steadily forward with even breath, pausing to see the treasures under my nose, unafraid to venture out alone, and ready to make new friends wherever and whenever they appear. Everyone I meet teaches me something.

This feels like a good plan for 2021.

Thank you for being here.

Love, Mary