I’ve made the wrong decision today, I’ve brought my old wetsuit. It has a few holes in it, it’s still damp and cold from yesterday and when I tentatively ease in to cross the river, the excruciatingly cold water leaks through the stretched zipper causing me to arch my back in a futile attempt at avoidance. On our walk up the beach I’m treated to stories of times past, of steam trains, childhood adventures and the first time there was telly. I imagine what it would be like to parent without the constant negotiation of screen time except that instead the kids are shooting rabbits with a 22. I’m left wondering which is more dangerous. We’re interrupted by a jelly fish the size of a basketball that has washed up on the beach, we inspect its intricate pattern of tentacles and then it’s time to contend with the river.
It’s an outgoing tide, the water from the mountain flows past and chills me to the core. Putting my head under is like some kind of torture, the pain is intense, but I repeatedly do it. It’s agony but in the end we’re rewarded with the warmer shallows covering the sandbank and the triumph of completing this stretch of cold river. More importantly, the outgoing tide has taken all of today’s uncertainties and self-doubts with it.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorKirrilee Archives
September 2018
Categories |