I have always felt safest underwater. My fondest memories are childhood summers spent at home with my strong, capable, joyful father sitting in a chair counting laps. He would be happy to just sit, and count well into adulthood. I knew he was there, waiting, whenever I came up for air, lingering a moment too long. Mesmerized by the summer sun, and the light patterns dancing across the blue vinyl. My heart was overflowing with joy, and my soul was full of his liquid love. I can still feel him under the currents, weightless and submerged when the world gets quiet. I can almost reach out and touch his hand, playfully splashing. He’s not there, and the chair sits empty. His presence lives in all the good parts of me. Kind, funny, sweet, lovable, worthy, faithful, loyal, and true. He’s gone missing when I come up for air, but for one brief moment, in between the inhale and the exhale, I forget. I cried today and could have sworn I felt his hand brush away my tears behind moody purple sunglasses. I will never forget how loved and safe I felt, submerged and surrounded by his unconditional love. I’m home, I’m still here with his wife and my mother. And that is all the luck, riches, or fame I could ever ask for. I forget that sometimes, feeling sorry for myself. Seasons come and go, of this the grown-up me is certain. Find out which season fills you up, and hold on tight, then simply release and gently let go. Surrender, and remember love floats.
BLOG EMOTIONAL HEALTH ESSAY FEATURED FOR WRITERS Health & Wellbeing POETRY & PROSE POETRY & PROSE Women