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Day twelve ocean swim

The ocean is sinking into me again. Coming here daily, and jumping in, has washed something old and musty from me. Not my age—I can’t escape that. But my sense of being old within my mind. I remember death daily. Not to despair or because of any morbid sense of delight in thoughts of oblivion. But just so I don’t forget. Because I love being alive and I don’t want to miss out on today. But this going into the sea, especially as a routine, is like a stinging slap to the face of complacency; it’s a shout of WOW! above the fray of work and the problems of life. Plus, the sunlight on the skin. Such magic it seems. The sunlight radiates all day in my mind, glows with a little too much smile, and shines through eyes which can’t forget what they’ve seen at the beach. So yeah, I’ll still remember that death is now standing just behind my left shoulder. But so what. I swam today. I saw the sun go down rich and hot. And that’s more than enough for a lifetime.


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