Soaking Wet

I dove in without hesitation. I did not dip in my toe or kneel down to break the surface with my hand. I barely allowed my brain to catch up with what my body was doing. I didn’t even strip down to my barest self or kick off my shoes. I just launched myself from the edge and felt the air slip away and the surrounding waters engulf me, rushing into every crevice of my being, filling in all of the spaces that had moments before been empty space.

I came up for a breath, considered climbing out, but then went back down, down, down. There was no silence, just the amplified sound of my own body existing, momentarily, without oxygen and without gravity.

I don’t know how long I stayed, but I remember knowing that if I didn’t get out soon, my entire being would begin to show the inevitable impact of this environment on a body meant for earth, sky, air and breath. It was hard to get to the edge, to pull myself up and out, feeling the shift from weightless to leadened, from symbiosis to discord. If I remained immersed, I would dissolve. I had to return to survive.