February 29, 2012 § 8 Comments
I never liked the water—from the long leap off the pier to the moment my toes touched the surface. I hated the muted sounds as I plunged into murky depths below and the anxious climb back to the air above. Maybe it was about control—something I have so little of these days. Now, I find myself rowing to the center of the lake, determined. This time when I jump, I’ll take in the air and enjoy the fall. This time when I’m pulled under, I’ll welcome the silence. This time when I rise above, I’ll have peace.
Image: Mist, By Pirjo Zeylon