Swimming

I realize as I sit on the sand and ponder that now I have time. Time to write. Time to think of the thoughts which regularly only fleetingly pass through my mind. Time to reflect and be thankful. Time to enjoy the moments.

I mention planning, planning the next trip, planning who to invite, planning… I mention planning thoughts to my husband while we are working up the courage to walk all the way into the cold but refreshing Stuart Lake. He lovingly chastises me for allowing my mind to leave the moment we are in now. Now. Stay here in this moment, he tells me. And we laugh, and we splash, and we squeal like children, as we dip ourselves into the water and swim. We swim back and forth, up and down, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the slight movement of air over the water, listening to the birds, listening to the water, listening to the quiet. It’s amazingly quiet out here. This lake is 10 km wide and 44 km long, and yet we see no boats out on the water, no others swimming or moving in or on the water. It is as though we are alone in the world, alone together, if only for the moment. The sky is bright blue and the sun warms our bodies even as we know the water is cool, we feel warm. I remember being a child. I remember coming to this lake as a young child, first with my friend Roberta going to Camp Morice after grades 1 and 2, but then as an older child, perhaps age 10 or 11, going to the same Camp Morice but to a family camp with all my Veeken relatives. I remember the peace and the bliss of playing in the sand and the clay and the water. Sitting out all day making sand castles and various sculptures, and then to watch the tide take them away as the evening comes. I remember this lake being a happy place. And we play – Chris & I play. We play in the water, squishing sand and clay between our toes, laughing and splashing like children. And our world is a peaceful happy place, at least right now, as we enjoy this moment.