Wednesday, September 01, 2010


boot camp


I know. It's been a long time since I've visited the Boot Camp. But I'm trying hard to actually follow through with this thing. You know, you can't call it boot camp if you give up, right? So, I'm going to keep plugging away. One post at a time.

It wasn't flying. It was swimming, but it seemed so much like flying that, for a few second, the two might be mistaken.  I was sitting on the beach, warm sand and a chilly breeze off the harbor, our two families laughing and screaming and delighting in the crash of waves larger than those we typically see in the summer at the Great Lake. My Spanish is poor to middling, and she doesn't speak English. So, we sat quietly most of the time, now and then interjecting a "wow!" or a laugh. Our children played in the waves, my daughter and her son...and our husbands...and Mane. We were the mothers sitting there shivering on the beach, smiles wide.

And I looked up to see Vespera & Niteo turn their backs to a huge wave as it crashed over their heads, saw them bob up and hold each other tight. Then Vespera ducked under the waves, and just for a second I wished I had a camera, though I knew it wouldn't do any justice to what I saw, to what was in my heart or before my eyes or in the air and the wind and the waves. A huge wave came rolling in, and just as it approached, Niteo turned his back to it and spread his arms out wide, flying free, and the wave rolled right over his head. For just an instant, I saw him through the wave, in the middle of the wave, covered and embraced...and embracing. I thought of how this has always been a freeing place for him, a place of homesickness and healing at the same time. The wind continued to blow, and the waves crashed, and Vespera and Niteo spun through the waves, ducking and diving and bobbing and laughing, as the seagulls overhead laughed and spun and dove in the wind. Flying.

I don't know how or when we are ever all free of the bits of life that entangle us, the worries of school and money and career and children and health and poverty and crime. But, I know that somehow, we are offered freedom in our hearts. We can step out of the tangle and fly. Maybe we rise above (or Rise Against?), and maybe its the wind in our faces or the waves pouring over us that set us free.

1 comment:

  1. Very beautiful and meaningful! You have a great talent. :)


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