Sept 24

Today we went back to the canyon. All the muck had settled nicely, and a sprawling lake now attracts many visitors. There were all sorts people sport fishing, water skiing, those kinds of activities. I went with George, Mom and Grandma and I was surprised that it took so long to find a spot, but the many outcroppings that before covered the canyon's walls made for nice secluded picnic spots.
There's always a chance to lose myself in the sun, propped under a fresh spruce.
I sat there with my eyes closed. I could hear my mom and Nana chatting at the table, the snap of their cards as each discarded rhythmical rounded out the conversation and I felt intoxicated by the crisp smell of the tree and the warm sun.
I began thinking about the cards my matriarchs were using:
how they were made, are they new,
were they bought, or
were they found. I wondered what they felt like;
cold to the touch, silky against the fingers
did they slide around in Nana's hand?
For a moment I could see each
delicately thin card, blue and white, stiff, durable.
I felt the heat getting to me, in my delusional bliss, so I opted for a dip.
Feeling light of heart I ran ambitiously toward the water, and plunged in. That turned out not as euphoric as I was still imagining: I came up into a green slimy residue slicked against my hair and face. I could feel its weight at the surface, and although I quickly went back underwater, the sludge followed me all the way to the shore, and only begrudgingly did it finally rub of on my towel. I don't even know how to describe the twitter I was in:
Embarrassment for having done it,
disgust from having it touch me,
and self loathing.
At first I blamed the lake, blamed the flood that brought such an natural abomination,
then the park rangers who had failed to properly warn visitors.
I was ready to go. Thankfully no one else was, nor were they really in the disposition to care about my humorously petty complaints. George, all the while, had gone and found a guide with a boat.
I was arrogant at first, passively belittling any good that could possibly come out of it. But once we were out in the middle of the lake, I couldn't have been happier.
Our guide was an older gentlemen, but very adept in aquatics and history.
The flood, he told me, had brought with it entire coral colonies.
He parked the boat near one of these colonies and we all put our dive gear on.
I felt so beautiful in that place. Slowly we drifted down
swimming from
side to side
the ancient marine pattern
unfolding before me

life feeding
on death

free from
as it should be
the straight line of
the clicking tock reality

docile sharks swam around us
like New Yorkers gliding
past and we just watched
like land folk usually do.