Rooted, I used to think.

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Going Out / Coming Home - Friday, Mar. 04, 2022
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The Hut Trip - Thursday, Feb. 17, 2022
Lost and Found - Tuesday, Feb. 15, 2022

Tuesday, Feb. 08, 2022 @ 1:22 pm
Orca / Ocean Swimming

I went into the ocean last night. The sun had set, and the crescent moon hung there over the sparkling city in the navy blue twilight. I walked to the beach from my apartment wearing a robe wrapped over my bikini, a towel slung casually around my shoulders. Feet bare in flip flops. I crossed over the seawall and onto the sand. Placed my towel and robe on a rock beside the water’s edge. Slipped off my flip flops. And walked straight in, pausing only momentarily when the water was at my waist.

The burning cold water pressing against me. The pain feeling good, somehow. Pushing off and floating in the frigid water. Six degrees Celsius. I lay back and float on my back and look up at the moon. Breathing steadily, bearing it all silently.

I turn to swim back to shore, to find purchase on the sandy bottom with my numb feet. A man is there, wading in, making noises of discomfort.

“You walked in so casually,” he says. “Not a flinch.”

“I’m good at hiding my emotions,” I respond.

We chat a bit, our heads bobbing above the still, black water. His daughter playing on the sand nearby.

I end my swim, towel off, robe up, and flip flop back along the seawall home.

The next morning, I gaze across the misty, rainy harbour while holding a warm mug of tea.

A dorsal fin breaks the surface.

I grab my binoculars. Focus to the location.

And again, a tall black dorsal fin cuts the surface, rises, and falls. A male orca. From my apartment living room.

A gift from the ocean.

Was it from my sacrifice? All of the hours that I have scanned the ocean landscape for a whale, one appears the morning after I push myself into discomfort in the witness of the great, wide ocean.

The ocean that presses against me is the same ocean that presses against that whale.

I duck my head under into the cold. Salt in my mouth.

Everything burning with cold.

The man. The whale. The moon.

This is paradise.

Roots | Shoots