Bottom Time

"Divers Do It Deeper!"; "Get Wet!"; "Kiss My Abalone!": rallying cries of my well-spent youth.

(We are the grit that makes the pearl or mars the paint job.  A more mature reflection?)

Humble shots, certainly, but they pull me deeper into memory's well.

One breath-hold; a handful of shots; the surge moving me forward and back as it likes.

There may be no real drama available here for anyone else, but I like the bottom of white sand and crushed rock as well as the translucent green blades in motion.

Mostly, these shots make me want to dive down again and again, to see what's there, and to do any of that, well, I need to begin training again, to get in shape, to swim and swim and swim, which is all good.  I walked today, and that's a fine start.  Laps now . . . .