I went swimming again today. Swimming is good, my favorite thing about the summer. I love to be outside, underwater, surrounded by screaming peeing kids (well, OK, so I could do without the peeing part). My shoulders ache, but it's a good ache, and my hands and arms are starting to get that deep, dark farm worker tan.

When I wasn't working, I used to swim all the time at The Oliver Bath House, even in the winters. Today, while finishing up, I was remembering something of that time, from when Bob died.

I was remembering being at the funeral, or perhaps maybe it was one of the viewings. When I'm swimming I think, and sometimes my brain gets stuck on thoughts that I find upsetting. When this happens, I usually dive down to the bottom of the pool and lie there, feeling the weight of the water on top of me. Then I push the air from my lungs and rise to the surface. Kind of a "deep, cleansing breaths" thing, only with water. At any rate, I was at the funeral home, in that little back room with Dan, Milon, Tiphanie, whoever, and I felt myself do that. I actually felt myself dive deep down somewhere, felt the weight on top of me, and then felt the air return as I resurfaced.

The water is good.