Drifting

I’ve been fretting and worrying. About my son. Who’s not well. It’s as if fretting and worrying can work some kind of magic. The problem is that I don’t know what to do to make things right. I feel helpless. Powerless.  I chase my tail.

So I went swimming at my little community pool. There were a few others there doing their laps. Mostly retired folks. I have my routine: lazy warm-up, back stroke, float board, water exercises. Three sets.

While I was doing my back stroke I looked up at the clouds. It was a peaceful sky. Bright blue with lots of cumulus and a few stormy-looking ones out on the edges and wispy cirrus in the background. They were drifting, just drifting. A bird flew through, way up high, slowly. Little more than a speck with wings.

When I was done swimming I laid out by the pool to dry off and looked up at the clouds some more. They were still drifting. I just gazed as I lay there in the sun, relaxing. Letting the clouds into me. Drifting with them.

It helped. When I got home I wasn’t fretting so much and I figured out some things, took some action to feel less helpless. But not frantically. At the pace of the clouds.

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About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard, doing things with my grandsons and spending time with my beau on his beautiful 22 acres in north central Florida.
This entry was posted in beauty, birds, emotions, family, fear, health, human interest, love, mother, nature, poetry, psychology, relationships, senior citizens, spirituality, women and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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