Sand is generally annoying. It's gritty. It's hot under your feet. It gets into your clothes and your hair and works its way into crevices you didn't know you had. And if you're me, it's nearly impossible to walk on. I remember struggling down Patoka beach as a kid, flopping to the ground every few feet like a penguin soaked in grain alcohol. And I ambulate even less these days -- which I somehow failed to realize until I was standing in the grass at the edge of the beach, looking at all that annoying sand sloping down into the water. But it wasn't as difficult as I remembered. When I was a child, my mother was bent on making me do things myself. That's not a bad thing, really, unless you get to a point where you take off marching toward the water and order your kid to keep up without even looking over your shoulder to see how she's doing.These days, I have a Mom who isn't utterly and completely embarrassed by my presence. She offered me an arm, I took it, and before I even realized I was putting forth an effort, we were enjoying the coolness of the lake.
Water sets me free. Buoyancy is quite possibly God's greatest gift to the palsied. In the water, I can move: kick, jump, dive, stand on one leg and hop up and down ... On land, jumping with both feet, I can barely make it off the ground anymore. I am stuck. Chained to the earth. Moving is a chore. But add water, and movement becomes a joy. The main thing I want when I win the lottery and have ten bazillion dollars to spend is my very own indoor heated swimming pool, followed by a gigantic sunken bathtub with jets. If I thought I could grow gills, I would just live in the water full-time. Find Atlantis and buy a house there. Water is glorious. The tough part comes after I've been out of the water awhile, when all that kicking, jumping, diving and hopping I've been doing catches up with me and leaves me completely wiped out. After my swim yesterday, I laid out on the beach with my mom while my dad and my sister went geocaching. I dozed off, and by the time they got back, my organs were baking and I had a sunburn such as I don't think I've ever had before in my life. I'm pretty sure the backs of my knees are blistered. My bra straps hurt my shoulders. I've even burned my scalp. I now live in a world of ouchy -- but it was totally worth it.
And then there was the food. My Dad cooks out every summer on this old charcoal grill that looks like it's going to fall apart any second but never actually does. He refuses to buy another one until the grill collapses to the ground and sets the yard on fire or something. I gotta admit, though -- that thing does its job. We had an absolute feast yesterday: three kinds of chicken, grilled carrots, corn, potatoes, peppers, and squash; potato salad, and chocolate shakes for dessert (or as an appetizer, in my case.) Three words come to mind: Nom, nom, nom. It was delicious. By the time I pushed back from the table, I was full up to my eyeballs. Which are probably sunburnt.
Back home, I was experiencing the welcome and rare sensation of non-spastic legs. My entire lower body was made of wet spaghetti. I took a shower to wash the sand off and sat down on the couch to watch "What's Eating Gilbert Grape," whereupon I fell asleep before the sun had even set.Three hours later I was up for a cold sandwich and the pills I had forgotten to take, and then I went back to bed. I woke briefly sometime after four and then slept till one, and I haven't done much all day except laundry. Recovery time is a bitch for me -- but like I said before, it was totally worth it.
And now, friends, I must go in search of my aloe vera before my skin splits open and an alien is born. Love you, kiss you, hug you!
Tif
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