So much for floating.

 

The lightening bolts came thick and fast today.  And no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t dodge them.  And no matter how much I lived in the moment, was mindful, I couldn’t stop myself being sucked down in to the whirlpool, delivered back to the bottom of the sea bed.

 

On my rocky sea bed, at least it is quieter.  I can’t get struck by lightening and there are no whirlpools.

 

I can do my final wrapping in peace, savouring a mince pie, watching Christmas TV.

 

On my rocky sea bed, at least I feel protected from the elements, less vulnerable, less exposed.

 

I can relax.  I can blow bubbles to the surface.

 

On my rocky sea bed, I can scream out loud, thrash my arms about and no one can see, no one can hear the muffled, muted disruption.

 

I can let it all go and prepare myself to be able to put on a good performance for Christmas. For my boys.  Their excitement will be my excitement.  Their joy, my joy.  Their laughter, my laughter.

 

And that is enough.