Water calms me. Baths, steam rooms, pools, creeks, lakes, rivers, oceans,
Niagara Falls.
I soak in the bath for hours. A psychic told me to shower often, to get my head straight, to cleanse,
wash away other people’s energy.
I remember camping in Fort Bragg. I wanted to disappear in the sea. My mom wouldn’t let me go near it
so I watched for mermaids.
The images that matter from my childhood all involve water. Bodega Bay. Fort Bragg. Sly Park. Creede.
Venice, Italy.
I spent hours in the bath as a child, my only privacy. I’d dunk my head, listen to echoes,
think about drowning.
my mom can’t swim.
“Don’t go to the lake, you could drown.” “Don’t go to the river, you could drown.” “Don’t go rafting, you could drown.”
I was 25 when she told me to wear a life jacket on the Circle Line Cruise in Manhattan.
Coincidentally, boats and I don’t agree. I’ve been in three incidences with boats, one a coast guard rescue,
so I avoid boats.
I’m not afraid of boats. I know it’s me who brings the bad luck. I don’t think I could drown
if I wanted to
My mom asked to be cremated and thrown into the Pacific Ocean near San Francisco. She didn’t need to swim
to love water.
