I thought I could learn to love running. Sidewalks, trails, beaches – relentless pounding felt like punishment.
Instead, I swim. Tepid pools, bracing Atlantic – calming water lifts me, holds me.
I dive deep, submerged in silence. Graceful. Weightless. Playful.
Released for a time from gravity.
Reminded for a time of connection.
Melanie Winklosky is a fiction writer trapped in a grant writer’s body. She lives in Swampscott, Massachusetts with her husband and dog, in what those who don’t understand call her “empty nest,” cheering on her children as they chase their dreams.