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.