Anyway, there is this river, and I have lived near it my entire life. And in the past I maybe tubed down it once. ONCE. But in the past two weeks, it's like there's an invisible magnet pulling me to the river. Well, really it started in winter. Then, I used to go, take a camping chair and sit by the river, totally desolate of humans, watching the mists swirl over the water b/c the air was colder than the river water that stays a fairly even 70 degrees no matter what time of year. But then the last two weeks I've actually gotten IN to the river. And suddenly it's like freaking crack to me. I can't stay away.
My six year old and I went today, just to walk around the river-side. We weren't wearing swimming trunks. I didn't have any towels. But as we dangled our feet into the river, I suddenly found it not enough and jumped all the way in, regular clothes and all. Then tried to coax my not-as-adventurous son to come in with me!!
I finally got him in a little, standing on these huge roots of trees that dive down into the river. It's mostly shallow there, my feet could touch and I could walk up right. There's just this delirious weightlessness to wading in water up to your neck. For a person like me who has a chronic illness, where my body feels doubly-heavy so much of the time--suddenly all that weight is lifted. I can float freely on my back in the sunshine, bob gently with my feet touching, all without much effort so I don't get easily tired out like normal. You just can't imagine how ALIVE it makes me feel. How normal. Every day now I find myself constantly thinking--hmm, how can I make it to the river today?