Face Down and Naked

Last Friday night I partook of a recently acquired annual ritual of swimming butt ass naked in my pool. The stars need not be aligned for this particular event to unfold. I need only privacy and a warm summer evening.




A few years ago I took my first naked dip. That first one was unexpectedly interrupted by my daughter who had returned from a concert earlier than expected. Not to be deterred, I informed her of my intentions and after she picked her jaw up off he pool deck she sat in a chair while I swam.



Last Friday I found I had the house to myself and no interruptions loomed. We’d been caught in an unusually intensive heatwave and the night perfect for a swim. The pool temperature was akin to mild bathwater all week. The night was gorgeous, clear and calm and very warm. I’d undressed in my room, slid on a terry bathrobe and padded my way through the house and out the back door. Leaving off the outside lighting, I scanned my neighbors back decks to be sure no one was sitting outside. All was quiet and dark and I walked the short distance to the pool.



I loosened the sash of my robe and walked to the ladder. In one deft movement I dropped the robe, descended the steps and slipped into the water quickly and quietly. The water was far too warm for any sort of initial shock of temperature to register. Once immersed, enveloped in near darkness I immediately felt that wonderfully relaxed and free feeling I get when I do this.



Warm water sliding over my bare skin felt wonderful. I felt strong and powerful. I felt youthful and lithely supple. Stretching out my arms to begin to swim I felt long and lean. Slow strokes followed and I slid through that water feeling incredibly graceful and fluid. I felt sensual and alive. I felt fierce. I felt the way I have always felt when I was at my best.



Eventually I reached for a small tube, slipped it over my head and began to float, bobbing the the wake of waves I’d made from swimming. I lay my head over my arms, pitched forward and face down, the tube keeping my face out of the water. Prone and relaxed in that dark pool I settled in and started to think. So many things were on my mind these last weeks and I turned them over and over, one after the other, while I lay there floating.



I thought about my daughter, who was on vacation with her husband, celebrating her first wedding anniversary. I thought about my oldest son, hoping his house hunting will unearth a jewel he can afford. I thought about my youngest, headed toward his senior year of high school, wondering if I will figure out how to be the support he needs.



I thought about a friend who is dealing with a husband failing in health, who needs so much herself and never asks. I thought about a friend whose own health supplants itself front and center, never giving her rest, hoping she gets a reprieve from the latest occurrence. I thought about a coworker, having come out of an experience with cancer, who is sadly falling victim to her own emotional bondage.



I thought about a dear and special friend who’s absence feels like a slap in the face to me. I thought about my own absent husband and how our situation no longer seems to bother me as it once did. I thought about the corners I’ve turned lately and realized that having turned them actually makes me feel better. In fact, floating on that tube, in the dark, face down and naked, all of the thinking I’d been doing had me feeling pretty good. I felt anything but exposed. I felt fierce.



I felt exactly the way I have always felt when I was at my best.

Indeed.