The Night Swim

the breeze washes over me, just a bit too cool and goosebumps appear on my arms. the air feels damp, but clean and new, not heavy with humidity like before. the moon no longer rides on the horizon like it did; it's high now and much smaller. although it's out, it casts little light on the world i see. looking south, down the beach, i can see the waves no longer crashing with the ferocity displayed earlier, but just lightly tumbling onto the sand as if apologetic for the fury just hours before.

i put my feet on the metal bars of the balcony (they're cold) and push back, rocking my chair onto the two back legs, back until my shoulders touch the wall. i like sitting like this, always have. the wind blows my hair into my face and i brush it aside. a splash of foam from the waterline catches my eye and i watch the waves in their endless, timeless assault on the land. the angle at which the waves approach draw my eyes further down the beach until earth, sky and water merge in the darkness.

i wish i still smoked; it'd be a perfect moment for a cigarette. that thought strikes me as so strange considering i haven't had a cigarette in over 20 years. i wish i had a drink but i don't feel like getting up. being right here feels good, right, and i want to hold onto that for as long as i can. it's not often that feeling good and i are in the same room.

i remember feeling good. it was a long time ago but i can still feel it. well, remember it anyway. it was easy then, almost seemed like there could be no other way but to feel good. no worries to speak of. the usual stuff - money, health, terrorists, disease. all those fears were there but they didn't really carry much weight. before that time of my life, when good was easy, i worried about them a lot. then i didn't. there was so much that was good in my life, so much happiness that there just wasn't time or energy to spend on fears.

even when that time ended though, i didn't start worrying again. i just didn't care anymore. fuck it. what was the difference, anyway? the words from a long ago song stream through my head, "running on empty....running blind", jackson browne i think. seems fitting, somehow, but i don't have the energy to finish the thought. doesn't matter anyway.

blink.

the moon has moved, a lot. my butt is tingling. more lost time. i wonder where i was, what i was thinking. looking out into the water i see a blinking light, a boat. i don't remember it being there before, it must have come into sight while i was 'away'. i let the chair thud down on all four legs and stand, back aching. it occurs to me that the boat and the light are just what i need, just what i was waiting for. the pins and needles shoot down my left leg as i limp toward the waters' edge. two buttons and my shirt drops away behind me, leaving me just in shorts. i start to wonder which shorts they are, start to look down - fuck it. what's it matter anyway?

the coldness of the water grabs my feet; i didn't expect it to be so cool. i guess i'd always thought it would be warm, comforting somehow. another illusion lost. fuck it. what's it matter anyway? fuck it all.

for a fleeting instant i think to turn around for a quick look, but i don't. why bother? fuck it. let's go. the chill of the water rises around my legs as i wade into the water, into the cold dark quiet.