I'm slicing through the water at dusk. It's cool silk and I'm traveling on the bottom, the little squares of blue passing fast beneath me.
I'm on my own. I swim up to a grey sky already claimed by darting bats. The crows fly slow and steady toward their night nests. The wind picks up.
It's the shift change up there and down here, I'm on my own.
It'll take some getting used to, this. The usual suspects, though I've already waded through most of the stages on the way. It became a hard choice. It became a call of will and a set jaw. It hurt. It cost.
I could think lots of thoughts. I could try to shape this breakup into a piece that would fit the whole. I could speculate on the curriculum. On silver linings and better days.
But I don't. I don't need to. I've been here before, and then some. It is what it is. And it is done. I have no desire to look past now.
So I swim, as I have every day for about a month. I feel strength returning. My strokes are firmer, they take me farther. My breath lasts longer. Today is a clean day with sharp edges.
I'm focused on practical things. Mostly. Just...in the back of my mind an idea moves closer, silently on cat feet. I slide through the water, it's a tiger keeping pace through the tall grass, seen only in glimpses.
I tell myself I'm okay. I'm on my own.
And the grass whispers of freedom.