Little Swimmer

She's a good swimmer although she doesn't know she is. She's been swimming for as long as she can remember. The water is rough, getting imperceptibly rougher by the day. And the current never lets up, not even a hint of it ever letting up.

Storms come and go. She expects them now and depends on them going when they come. And when they pass, the rough water feels still even though it is not. They never will be.

The water is a frigid cold. An icy cold that numbs everything it touches and keeps everyone else out of the water. Was it warm once, long ago? Maybe, but it's more likely that she liked the cold when she jumped in and has simply forgotten the sensation her body is capable of.

Once in a while she sees something, as she struggles through the waves. Some things catch her eye, and ask her to stop swimming.

That one isn't stable.

That, transient at most.

Mostly, they are all blown away by the waves.

Best to keep swimming. Once she stops, she'll lose herself to these waves.

Then, at a great distance she sees it.

It isn't obvious. It's half buried in waves itself.

She swims in that direction but it's gone.

It's probably not actually there. After all, mirages happen often when you are fighting something.

She can't hesitate long, not out here. Head down, swim harder.

An eye now kept on the horizon, she continues towards her something......she can't feel it anymore but she thinks she remembers where it should be.

Again, it's there, sitting still, immovable. As if only close enough to see and be seen. She's seen it out here many times before. Was it this one though, she couldn't say. It seemed different to her now. Had it changed? Had she?

It is driven off as she comes close.

Now, she's actively looking for the shy thing lost in the waves. She loses her stride, now and then, deep in thought. It's dangerous to lose your concentration out here. The rough hands of the sea can sense it and leave no weakness unexploited.

Again, it's there. Is that the same place as before? Is there a pattern?

She gets close and it stays just a moment. She gets close enough to touch it. Just for a moment, she lays a hand on it.

Warmth! Sunny warmth radiates from it, cheering her whole body. How was it able to catch sun out here? How was it able to fight the power of the waves?

Wild excitement passes thru her body. Her heart pops. Then she shy thing passes under the waves. But her spirit remains ignited. A fire is lit that cannot be extinguished by any coldness or force.

She lost her stride there, when she stopped, but the energy from that small moment gives her the strength to avoid being rolled by the waves. She keeps moving, not giving the frigid sea the excuse.

She regains her mind suddenly. He heart beats evenly.

It's gone?

She's got to find it again. She had it in her hands. Held it by the hand just long enough to need it back. The long forgotten heat left her nerves tingling. Her focus gets flustered remembering it in her grasp. The waves catch her off guard and she is rolled hard. Struggling to bring her head to the surface, she commits to a new course.

The unforgiving waves, never easing, exhaust the body and deplete the soul. In the smallest of increments they are both drained and destroyed by the power of the waves. Their icy coldness helps, keeping off the pain.

It doesn't appear, where she expected. She's got to know it. She’s just got to feel it again! Maybe she'll get lucky.

Random searching didn't work, neither did waiting. She slows as frustration sets in. She should focus on her stride. But she has to find out if it's real, or if it was the embodiment of something imaginary.

The current turns, pulling her back towards that old and unobtainable end, always beyond the horizon. But she pushes on, despite its efforts, in her new path.

Time passes without a glimpse of it. Her pace is breaks. The waves are relentless. The storms ruthless. She begins to lose herself entirely to the darkness of the deep waters. Submerged in it, she is owned by it.

She is barely able to float. She begins to drift back toward that forgotten goal. She realizes then, that she never forgot it. How could she know where she was going if she had forgotten? It forgot her. It no longer sought her.

Her eyes closed, facing the dark storm clouds directly, she bobs around like flotsam, like some abandoned, lost, wreck. She kicks no longer. She makes no effort to move; the water is beyond rough. The waves, large and irregular, make it impossible to make gains in any direction. The wind tears down anything she could build up. And, she has lost the horizon.

Her hand brushes something but she is so tired she doesn't even turn her head. She has lost hope. It's a hallucination, she decides, a wish.

Her head turned down towards her chest, she hides her face. It has been a bad morning. It was a bad night too, but they all are. She is back to numb passivity with the will of the sea. What was it that drew her attention, then, and caused her to raise her head? Could she feel it out there? Did it have an unseen pull on her?

The little island was being driven past her too quickly to catch it. Wait!!! Stay!

Gone?

Not gone! It sits over there, regaining strength. It looks as though it would come over to her now. But it hesitates. She rolls herself and begins to push towards it against the strong tow of the current. As she approaches, it too comes near. She can only manage to make it a short way, but it finishes the distance between them.

The waters warm around it. The sea stills.

Ever so gently, she places a hand on the little island hiding in the waves.

The sand has stayed warm and dry. How?!

Climbing out of the water, her body shivers and sparks in the heat. She pulls her limp self up, kneeling feebly on the calm ground.

Fall, it says. Fall....

Collapsing on it, like hugging the land for the first time in years, she realizes she had lost the memory of stillness. The sensation is jarring, and she recoils back towards the sea. She needs the tumultuous movement to feel at home.

No she doesn't. That was never her home. She's just been swimming for so long she forgot what it felt like to stop.

Where have you been, little island, all this time?

I'm here...

Why did you let me swim to exhaustion?

Not me, you. You let you swim....

Pain. Pain was something she was good at carrying and good at hiding. She suffered the cold and the blows and the isolation in the sea for an eternity, bearing it with a cheerful smile. But now the pain she felt was different. It was a pain of regret. It was the pain of pleasure. When one becomes depleted, it hurts to rest. When she relaxed on the calm sand, her body ached.

She searched her surroundings and found everything so orderly. It was just the right size to be hers. It had things she had forgotten she needed. And no destructive winds blew here. No hail ever fell. She could build here…..

I'm here....

She became tense at the security of it. She felt unease in the safety of it, of her island. She wanted to feel natural here, but it was so different. Determination, of all things, was not lacking in the Little Swimmer. She would learn to walk again on a strong and solid island. She could make herself a home here, a home that took away all temptation to return to the abuse of the sea.

I'm here. I'll always be here.....

She forgot what tears tasted like, her face had been wet for so long. These tears are not those of pain. A contrast to pain has brought them. The intense gratitude she felt as she lay there, on her island home, brought them to her eyes.

In time, wait, you will see the sun again…

More tears fell, watering the land around her feet. With some small amount of care, a magnificent garden could grow here, she thought as she dug her toes into the damp earth. Her shoulders rolled forward as she slowly relaxed. She swayed as she allowed herself to feel tired. She was very tired.

Sleep. Rest. I will take you away, to where the sun shines warm….

She nods, with tears on her cheeks and wraps herself in its care. This is a healing place, she whispers to herself as she finally nods off to sleep.