get native

 

 

my great indulgence is to be up north  for as much of the summer as I can

(***don’t be too jealous, it doesn’t come without very hard and strange work. I worked backwards from this dream to make it possible)

eager to feel again what we did when we were little and days turned to nights turned to days and then in what felt like forever, it was time to return to the city

but somewhere there must be  a memo going around that grown woman should stay clothed, never swim and certainly never dunk under

we must stay on the sidelines and act serious and look good

I intentionally missed this memo

While true my better look is when I am dry and clothed- I love getting native

After you have been swimming and playing for hours in your bathing suit, you forget your age, you forget your life and the roles you play, you forget what is hard and what hurts and what can’t be forgotten

You feel so clean

Later you go up to finally put on some ugly cottage clothes like your daughter’s best friend’s little sister’s tank top hand me down from 7 years ago and those ugly cut offs you love that remind you of happiness- because why not- and you peel off your damp bikini top in front of the mirror and you see yourself and laugh

who is that?

I forgot my age

I forgot my vanity

and you look closer and there is something on your damp, cold, white,  absolutely defying gravity left breast (ok I made that last part up) and it is a flattened  dead minnow

and you smile

because it is a beautiful thing to get native

and feel 8 again

 

Don’t you love all this about summer? I require it to feel right. And a little VAGABONDER- my favourite summer french verb- click here for a full on translation and picture of me with no top on and the dead minnow 

 

 

One thought on “get native

Comments are closed.