. . . at times, we could all use
a little looking after. . . .

~ R.J. Lambert, from his poem, Morning People

It isn’t until late morning that I get outdoors for my walk. On my way, I meet our friend Ron who has come to install the outdoor shower I’ve been hoping for. I don’t even realize he will get his part of the job done today––but he does! Hot and cold running water under the sky, a view to the trees. The enclosure hasn’t yet arrived, but the shower is working! Today, what I need most, is time for a good long walk with Charlie and a summer swim in Farm Pond. So, after my walk, I go to the pond and take what feels like a boundary-less swim, across to the island, and then I keep going, swim by my friend’s dock and boat house, swim past the place we had so much fun swimming together before she moved, swim into memory and joy of all the swims here. I am so happy in the water today. I seem to be the only swimmer out here, and there are no boats today. I have on my bright yellow float. I am in a fine rhythm and feel free and strong and happy and grateful. At home, I realize I was feeling a bit anxious about the changes to the household and the rooms that needed to be rearranged (including my office) to make room for my daughter this summer. A full house indeed. And she is doing such a great job with the space we’ve allotted her that I am no longer anxious. It all feels manageable, and, in fact, desirable. It’s going to work. Especially because of the outdoor shower we can all enjoy. The house is going through its strangest period, being under construction, at the same time that it is being used by the whole entire family again. Summer is feeling expansive. I had to nap, desperately, in the late afternoon. Forty-five minute deep sleep. Then, making dinner, and leading the Journal of Expressive Writing Open mic, featuring R.J. Lambert, and it was an exquisite night of poetry and community. Here, now, somehow, the weekend is arriving. Whoosh went this week.