Double Dip

We fiddle with our waist straps; tight enough so that we won’t slip out of them but loose enough to breathe deep into our tummies. They only go so small anyway. She’s done this more than me this year. There is a magnetism between her and the water. She momentarily glances back at me as a I contemplate the cold for a second longer than she does. We have to wear swimming hats here. But usually she dips under on her second stroke, slipping her hair and serene expression under the surface. Emerging with glee and her hands pushing the water up and out of her eyes and over her head. I follow her down the slope. This is the moment you can’t stop. She’s pushed off the edge and I know I must too. I continue down to my waist and without thinking bend to lurch into the water. The cold quickly goes to work on my organs, I puff out and laugh at the fuss I’m making. She laughs back at me. While she’s no stranger to the cold, her stroke is slow and steady. I quickly join to the side of her. And I follow her lead, dipping my head under the water. Not quite the same feeling as when cold water filters through your hair but the gesture is enough. The sting of the cold wears off and my breath slows. We swim beside on another. We haven’t said much since we’ve got here but I can see she’s been crying today, whether It was on the way here or this morning I don’t know. It’s normal now. When we meet each other. There’s an understanding. And sometimes we don’t need to talk about it. Sometimes it’s just good to swim next to each other. Sometimes we don’t want each other there. Today I wanted her there. I wanted someone just to be there.