Swimming on Saturday

This is going to sound a little dramatic, but I'm really loving the Moby song, "When It's Cold I'd Like to Die."  No, I'm not suicidal.  But it's a good song.  It reminds me of the LOTR soundtrack, in both the sweeping orchestrals and in the Annie Lennox-sounding vocals.  (Is it Annie?  I know, I could check, but I like the mystery for now.)

I especially like the lyrics, but I like the whole thing.  It's how I've felt this week.  Now, I know, those of you who know me might be saying, "Excuse me, you've been chatty as hell."  Well, yes.  But those of you who KNOW me know how unattractive my little depressive bouts can be.  Also, I've known they were part of the dip before a coming eureka, so I've been waiting as patiently as possible and keeping them to myself.  Part of it is my poor disjointed hormones, part of it is my personal psychosis, and part of it is my (God help me) writing process.

But you know, really, especially about Thursday I was really thinking, "I don't want to swim forever.  I don't want to fight the tide.  I don't want to swim the ocean.  When it's cold, I'd like to die."  I'm not done swimming, no. But I wanted a break.  I wanted a BREAK. 

Weirdly, I got it.  My daughter got sick – not deathly sick or anything, just dramatically sick.  And my world became reduced to one room, one focus, and a lot of PBS TV in the background while I surfed the net with my baby in my arms.  Strange break, but it worked.  There's nothing like fighting an illness to get your head focused, but even more focusing is watching your child fight an illness.  And thinking about how if you lived in a different era or if viruses mutated just right, this might be the tide, the cold that made death real.  And suddenly I wanted to swim again, and bear my daughter with me.

I'm not glad my daughter got sick at all.  But I am grateful for the lesson I got out of the experience.  So yeah, my hormones are whacked and at this moment I've got fantastic menstrual cramps and even if I can find a focused time to write, my brain won't cooperate.  But I'm swimming, and I'm not cold.  If you can keep moving, you're warm enough to swim on.

And especially with my beautiful daughter with me, I've got amazing company.