Since Plan A crashed I've been living almost entirely by my own internal rhythms, sleeping, waking, eating when I feel like it, not when the clock says it's time. I'm usually awake long into the night, and sleep through the heat of the day.
I especially love to swim at night, in the dark pool, with no lights on at all. I spend long, quiet time floating , looking up at the stars as they wheel over head. If it's not too late Ursa Major is directly overhead, and I'm reminded of my brave friend named after that constellation. I keep meaning to tell her, now that she's moved so much closer to the stars, that I think of her almost every night...
Sometimes the frogs join us, swimming with their long legs, and even climbing up our arms to rest. I know it sounds strange, but I like it - it's as if they've welcomed me into "their" world.
I'm never afraid, even when there's no moon at all, and I'm alone here on Moss Hill, in the dark water. The solitude washes over me, and sinks in, deep and peaceful. I don't wait for falling stars to make my wishes. I'm always wishing, radiating my heart's desire out to the Universe like a thousand sky lanterns ablaze in the night sky.
This is my Summer. I don't know how it will end, and so have taken to calling it The Uncertain Summer. The truth, of course, is that I never knew how it would end. The difference is that now I know I don't know.
The sky was a
midnight-blue, like warm, deep, blue water,
and the moon seemed to lie on it
like a water-lily,
floating forward with an invisible current.