Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

On Monday, I went swimming, for the first time this season and hopefully not the last.

I'd arranged to work in the evening so that I could spend another day with my family before returning to the Philadelphia area.

My brother and his wife were staying an extra day before leaving for Vermont, and I wanted to hang out with them. We had all been in town for my mom's 60th birthday celebration.

I was awakened early. I was sleeping in an extra room in my dad's doctor's office, because it had air conditioning. My dog, Una, ran out into the hallway and started barking at a receptionist who was getting things set up for the day.

I apologized to her, grabbed all my sleep gear and went upstairs to the hot apartment, where I fell asleep on a couch. My brother, his wife and I got up fairly early and were talking about going swimming.

They didn't know if they wanted to go to the closest state park, which has infamously cold water. I suggested one that was a little further away but had warm water. They seemed interested for awhile but then decided to go for the closer one, since they were going to be doing a lot of driving on Tuesday, returning to Vermont.

When we got to the park, the bath house that used to be there had been torn down. There were bulldozers, piping and orange fencing. For the meantime, they had porta-potties to change in. I was already in my bathing suit, but my brother and wife had to change. They decided that, rather than risk dropping things into the toilet, they'd find a secluded place in the woods. They marched up there and I sat on the beach waiting for them, watching kids splash near the shore.

Only half the beach was open that day, with a lifeguard posted. The rest was roped off.

"In Vermont," my brother told me, "if you go to a park, they don't have the lake marked off. You can swim anywhere, lifeguard or not."

"Is that safe?" I asked.

"They're not as uptight about such things," he said.

My brother and I were used to the water from years of family picnics, but I wasn't much surprised when, after dipping a toe in the frigid water, my brother's wife said, "I think I'm going to just go sun for awhile. Maybe I'll get in later."

Not quite ready to get out, my brother and I dared each other to go further in. It was difficult once you got to the essential areas; if you got that far, you might as well just go under and get it over with.

After my brother decided to brave it and plunged forward, coming up with a whoop, I dove under and came up shouting. We raced for the rope. He touched it and said, "There. I touched the rope. I'm going in."

But I stayed around to do some laps. I like to actually get some swimming in while I'm there. So I did about 10 laps.

Usually, you get warmed up after swimming for awhile, but this time it was rough. The only way I got through it was by doing my yoga breathing and staying focused. You can't allow yourself to start thinking, "Man! It's freaking cold!"

Finally, I struggled out of the water and made my way to the towels. My legs were shaking, either from the cold or from the exertion of swimming.

"I'm having trouble finding my land legs," I said.

"You're a wild woman," my brother said.

"It's not that bad when you get used to it," I lied.

My brother's wife had finally heated up enough to brave the water a little bit. She went down to the water, plunged in and came out looking refreshed. I complimented her on her bathing suit, which was simple black with some interesting straps. She told me she got it at Old Navy and that she and my brother shop there all the time. The problem is he won't wear anything with a designer label on it, since he doesn't want to advertise a brand. This means, he told me, he can't get a hooded sweatshirt anywhere.

With the water as cold as it was, there wasn't much left to do but lie in the sand for awhile, which we did. I found a long blonde hair and a cigarette butt near my towel.

When we tired of the sun, we went back to the woods again and took turns changing behind some dense saplings.

After grabbing a little lunch, we drove to Lowe's so my brother and his wife could buy more wooden curtain rods for their house. They couldn't find them in Vermont. As we walked through the store, they chatted about all the things in their new house that they're changing.

"They might seem like small details," my brother said. "But it all adds up. By the time you get there to visit, you'll have to look at the pictures to know what the 'before' looks like"

He paused to look at a selection of pre-made doors. Stroking an oak one wistfully, he said, "They don't sell them this cheaply in Vermont." Maybe over Thanksgiving, if they visit at that time, he'll find a way to take back a door.

Meanwhile, I became highly aware of my own long journey home, and the clock ticking off my last minutes of shared company. I grew quiet, got a little sad inside.

We finished at Lowe's and they helped me pack up my truck. They had decided to walk their dog (my dog's mommy, Pulsar) after I left, and my brother was out back with her when he discovered a pipe gushing water. They called my dad out of his office to look at it. He kneeled down in his white lab coat.

"Where's all that water coming from?" my brother asked.

"It's air conditioning water," Dad said.

"That much of it?"

My dad grabbed the pipe and with considerable effort, jammed it back in place, all the while managing not to soil his lab coat.

"I have to go," I said quietly and gave them all hugs. When I left, they were still gathered around the pipe, trying to assess whether it was fixed.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw my brother and his wife walking leisurely through the parking lot, Pulsar between them on the leash. It reminded me of something my brother had said to me earlier that weekend.

"Maybe I shouldn't even have a dog," he said.

"Why?"

"It was so hard to lose Zamuna," he said. "I just don't know what I'll do when I lose Pulsar. And I know it's inevitable some day."

"But would you give up all the adventures you've had with her?"

"No."

"Then just enjoy the time you have with her."

Soon I was back on the road, my doggie curled up beside me, sighing. She knew we were headed back to our solitary routine.

As I drove, I thought about all the good times I'd had that weekend, and I had to choke back a few tears. Before long, I felt better. My sister's graduation from Penn State is coming up, so I'll see my family again soon. Plenty of time for more adventures.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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