It’s easy to see I spent the first nine months of my existence in fluid.
Because I love me some water.
Southwestern Nova Scotia just teems with lakes. Teems. There’s a lake everywhere you look. Of course, not all of them are swimable. For example, I don’t think I’d take a dip in Sucker Lake.
When I was little, I stepped in a nest of leeches (though I’m not sure if they live in nests or covens). It took a lot of salt to get those hundreds of squiggling bloodsucker babies off my leg. Maybe that’s the origin of my phobia of leeches.
I love swimming at the local lake. In the evening, the sun still shines off cottages on the opposite shore even though it’s dark and shadowy where I am. Bull frogs gurgle in the masses of lily pads flanking the main swimming area.
Cigarette butts float past my nose…
Pools are great and so is the ocean. But there’s a peculiar smell at the lake, comprised of the life that blossoms above and below the waterline. It’s intoxicating.
Since I’m eager to lose at least 15-20 pounds before school starts, I swam for an hour the other evening. I flipped onto my back, gazing at wisps of white overhead. Occasionally, planes flashed silver.
I love finding bits of heaven on earth.