Friday, September 21, 2018

Swimming outside the lines

I step into Mill Lake, expecting to feel the cold bite of glacial water. But I've forgotten: I'm not in an alpine lake. I'm in southern Michigan, on a small inland body of water. I

I swim and I swim. I swim across the lake, aiming for the white lawn chairs of the Chicago people's house across from our cottage. I turn and aim back toward the float plane on the other side. Unlike where I live, I can stay in the water.

It's like that here, a gentler side to life that I've forgotten. It seems easy here, a September without nights of frost or hint of snow, a season where I usually have to carry a puffy jacket wherever I go. Not here. Life feels easy here, without an edge.

Of course I'm wrong. Winter is coming and lake swimming won't be possible. I'll be gone by then. But for now I swim farther than I ever have, outside of a pool confines.  This is why travel is good. You step out of your bubble.
Plus, you do things you never thought you could. Like swim farther than you ever have.


  1. One of my favorite memories is a lake in eastern Texas that I swam across and back at sunset in summer 2001. That encompassing feeling of beauty, tranquility and freedom.

    1. So much better than a pool and even my glacial lake, because I didn't feel the fear of getting too cold. In my lake I end up swimming a ways and then regretting it because I get so cold swimming back. Not in this one. Though the threat of being run over by a pontoon boat is real


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