Wednesday, July 2, 2014

A Perfect Tuesday Afternoon

I ran yesterday in a blazing sun for about two hours. My shirt was drenched, in that only in the summer kind of sweaty mess that you just can't replicate in cold weather, no matter how many layers you wear. I had recently spoken to my old manager, and we reminisced about our days in Tunisia, running with the Hash House Harriers over sand dunes, along the Sea with its dozen hues of blue, through gnarly woods and down footpaths I would never have traveled alone. We used to sweat there too. I reminded him of a time he was so drenched in sweat that I commented that if we all got thirsty we could just suck on his shirt. His teenage daughter, running with us, was disgusted. In those days, I ran for the pure feel of movement. I ran as a tourist, with an interest in the people and places you just couldn't reach by car. I ran to engage my colleagues, to stay in shape in case of an emergency (and there were plenty of those), and I ran because I couldn't live if I didn't run. Yesterday, I ran to wipe Saturday clean from my psyche. After about two hours, I felt I could stop. I finished up in time for lunch and to check on Alex who was back to camp, still blistered, but better. He was so hot and tired he could hardly answer my questions, and so I asked that he spend the rest of the day in an air conditioned room where he might focus on fine motor skills. I spent the afternoon working on my next book, an adaptation for our YMCA which is using The Value Tree in their summer camp. I glanced out the open window to see Izzy returning from her afternoon tennis lesson at camp. Her face was scarlet. When I rounded everyone up to go home, I knew there was only one solution to the heat, a swim. As soon as we pulled into our driveway, we changed into bathing suits, and raced out to the beach. The sand was on fire, but the water was icy cold. It was high tide, my favorite tide, because we can wade out for yards on sand without ever going in over our heads. We all went under as fast as we could, our lips stinging in the salt, but smiling. "I love your suit," Izzy commented on a skimpy black bikini I didn't often wear. "You look skinny." "Lookin' hot Mom!" Alex yelled from the waves. Alex, still wearing his sunglasses but no goggles, practiced freestyle for an hour. Izzy, having bounced and splashed until she was dizzy, rolled onto her side on a towel and shut her eyes. I stood apart and watched my children, blissfully content in the summer heat, perfectly happy at being 5 and 6, no older, no younger. There could not have been a more perfect Tuesday afternoon.

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