Rarely do we get the opportunity to swim while there are lilacs and lily-of-the-valley on the breeze, but Andy managed to open the pool and raise the water to a glorious 84 degrees, and so a few days ago I took my first dip of the season as the daytime temperature matched that of the water. A wondrous moment for the middle of May, and we shall take such happy indulgences where we can get them.
The first swim of the season is always a quiet one. Slipping into the pool after months away is something that commands a certain respect – that my body can still glide through the water, that the feeling of freedom and floating is still as magical as it was when I was a kid, that the water and the sun and the flowers are enough to lift the darkest days. As we careen through this period of Mercury in retrograde, and a full supermoon battles with a lunar eclipse, the safest place to be may be underwater, removed from the manic and panic in the air.
Surfacing to take in more of the lilacs, more of the lilies-of-the-valley, more of the intoxicating perfume that only appears in spring, I fully take in the moment. Being present is one of the best ways of staving off worry and stress – and just turning on the news or being aware of the state of the world induces instant worry and stress. Better to dive beneath the surface again, lost in the blue and lavender, drowning in the perfume of spring.
Our Kwanzan cherry tree is also in full bloom, and floating beneath the pink blossoms as the petals start to fall is one of the enchanting gifts that only comes around once every few years. Usually this show is over by the time we get into the water, sometimes it’s over before the cover is even taken away – the pink petals lost in the mucky green and brown mess that has collected over the winter. This year the pink is set off against the blue of the sky and the water, and I swim beneath the falling petals – so much lovelier than rain or snow.
Looking up, the water beneath me and the sky above, I survey the middle of May, trying to make sense of so much beauty when so many other things are wrong – and then I hold the thoughts of my parents and husband and family closer, the memories of friends still here and already gone, and the thread of hope that always brings summer back.
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