It’s when the water laps against my skin that I remember my body’s rhythm. Arms wide, pushing away, pulling in, legs pleating, pacing and the slow, slow glide. Breaststroke. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I luxuriate in this buoyant movement, expansive and broad. Turning on my back, I see myself mirrored in the sky, an arabesque or, perhaps, a waltz.
Climbing out of the water my legs hold me unsteadily, spasms jerking my steps. A turtle wishing for gills.