So, yesterday was birthday. Google knew that & gave me this as my homepage…
Sweet. But a bit like your neighbor you’ve never spoken to wishing you a happy birthday through the fence–and you know they’ve just been listening to your conversations on the patio for ages. (That didn’t happen. It’s a hypothetical. Creepy, right? But sort of sweet?)
I worked at Market in a light, autumn rain. We picked up both of our CSA shares (which absolutely covered our table in produce). I cleaned up the apartment, did laundry & in general felt like I got my life in order.
Because I’ve realized that with my birthday & the updated structure of my life comes not really caring about a lot of things that used to worry me.
Joe & I joined the Y today. We took a break from projects today. I dropped into the pool with a torn swim cap on my head and back fat popping out the top of my swimsuit. In the lane next to me, a woman over 70 was pacing her way through the pool. We were in our own worlds.
I did 30 laps. Including some with my face in the water. (Though mostly they were backstroke & me kicking along with my kick board.) At one point, I backstroked into the woman next to me as she passed through my lane to the ladder.
We ended up in the locker room at the same time, surrounded by seven year-olds at a pool party. I slipped into dry things while the older woman carefully dried her short hair, then each limb before slipping into layers of socks, orthopedic shoes, sweater. She was utterly at piece with herself.
Meanwhile, I dropped shampoo, then lock, then purse, then shampoo trying to get myself to the single, closet-sized dressing room. Each time, I squatted carefully–avoiding any bending to keep everything below my waist well within the bounds of my towel–and retrieved my belongings from the floor.
I’ve conquered the pool. I’m able to ignore the lifeguard as I frantically paddle through my lane. Now, this year, I’ll continue conquering myself.