Swimming
I thought it would be fun to post my writing somewhere else, so I'm just going to start with something I wrote a while ago to get things going When I was little I loved to walk by the curb to the bus stop, stepping on all the ice that had frozen on the sides of the road and hearing it crunch Then there were even a couple times I missed it, so focused on the ice, feeling it crunch and crack under the weight of my little body, thinking about things, that when I glanced up- The bus was driving off, I was still halfway down my street, standing in the morning light, thanking it for the day, ice below my feet, sky above, my dreaming in between How is it that I hadn't even heard it driving up? I'd thought But that's how I've always been, caught in a moment, swimming in time like it didn't exist, to the point that things in my peripheral don't register My dad used to be so worried about my trajectory, that I didn't seem to plan a day ahead or have motivation...