Summer used to be my golden season. It meant sunny skies, skiing, sandals and shorts. The boat came out of the garage and we headed out to water ski with friends every weekend! It was our brand of fun when we were 25 and I miss it. Mostly, though, I miss those wonderful breaks from everydayness.
Life now is mostly filled with “have-to’s”. But it’s my own darn fault. I’ve let my brain get filled up with chores and worries until there’s no room left over for just plain pleasure, enjoyment, fun, or whatever you call it. I hereby correct this egregious error by designating one day every week — in INK on the calendar — as my personal day. Wednesdays sound good! This plan sounds easy enough, but work ethics drummed into me from an early age die hard and chores do have a way of sneaking in. A red circle around that day should do the trick.
I still do know that it’s my own fault but, also, it’s harder to get in the mood for fun when you’re faced everyday with a media blitz of everything that’s wrong in the world. I’ve spent my whole life worrying — about everything — so I don’t turn into the news as much anymore. Words can barely describe how sad and disheartened it all makes me.
All four ski boats at the ready!
Soooo… Yesterday I sat in the yard riveted to vivd memories of my favorite thing about summer, waterplay. Sitting in the boat as it cut through the glassy morning waters of the river to a secret beach we claimed along with friends who loved it as much as we did. Skiing on Saturdays until we dropped, then nursing our pitiful sunburns on Sunday. Once we even managed to get 7 skiers up all at once and it was spectacular. Larry had the boat with the most power. The roaring engines of inboards echoed through the delta waters of the Sacramento River and on hindsight, probably pissed off lots of other boaters and residents along the banks. Sorry about that.
Who could forget the day my husband, Bill, and his friend Bill, tried to ski barefoot. Oh my! Something about a punctured eardrum as I recall. And what about the day I agreed to be in a ski race. Fear of being branded a party-pooper made me really stupid. No one told me what the water was like when you’re flying over it at 50 mph. No one told me my ski would shimmy uncontrollably, and I struggled to keep it underneath me. I frantically gave the driver — my husband! — the “slow down” signal which he ignored because he wanted to WIN the race! Then… BAM, head first into the rock hard water where the 2 pieces of my swim suit parted ways. The top was now scrinched up under my armpits and the bottom flew down, catching on my toes. Ohhh, the headache I had for the next 2 days. Lesson learned. Trying to be one of the gang was not worth it!
Soaking it all in!
My love of the water started early, and I was always very comfortable there. A synchronized swimming group when I was 12, then my high school swim team. Being in the water, even on a small scale, has always felt comforting and I’ve written about it before. “I am a bath addict. My world of comfort starts when warm water engulfs my body, where a small room of unspeakable pleasure brings relief from the angst of life, from cold toes and cluttered minds.”
Having time for myself right now is a luxury I didn’t have when working and parenting young ones were the highest priorities. But time is one of the benefits of getting older and, luckily, I am. The decibels of those hot-boat days are no longer tolerable, but I do miss being in and out of the water all day long. But mostly, I miss the laughter. Oh, how I miss the laughter.
Wednesdays, in ink, circled in red: A recess from everyday life!\
** Disclaimer: Old photos from the ’70’s, but you get the idea!