It's About Time

"If there's one thing

In my life that's missing

It's the time that I spend alone

Sailing on the cool

And bright clear water...

...It's kind of a special feeling

When you're out on the sea alone

Staring at the full moon like a lover

Time for a cool change

I know that it's time for a cool change

Now that my life is so prearranged

I know that it's time for a cool change"

- Little River Band, Cool Change

At this precise moment, I can hardly feel my legs. I've just swum quite a distance from the shore of our beach while the tide was high and the waves were huge. I've come to love swimming against the current, feeling the tug of the shore, fighting against it. (I'm such a badass.)

Because I do love living out my metaphors.

...

In a little less than a week, my daughter and I will move back to Manila. I've incredibly landed a good job, one that puts me in a different field, but one that I've always loved nonetheless. I still have to make final living arrangements, but everything about settling down is within reach. And so, I've been slowly saying goodbye to this place, bit by bit. To do that, I've been out swimming almost every day.

From up above, in our room, I can see the sea floor. I can see where the rocky shore ends, giving way to the spiky corals that house the tiny fish and numerous sea urchins. From up there, I know that eventually, there will be a portion of seaweed-y sand, safe enough to walk on. This is where I usually end up. Like I've said before, I've always been afraid of the sea, despite my being in love with it. But from up in our room, I also know that there is a glorious patch of white sand. It's about half a mile from the shore though (maybe even further), and I had never ventured that far on my own. But I know it's there because I can see through the clear waters from our room on the second floor. (Ano ba, metaphor na naman.)

The past few days though, Lucia's dad has been here for a visit. He has no fear of the sea (or its creepy crawlies) and through him, I was able to ascertain that the area where the white sand is isn't as deep as I had feared. Still, it was a formidable distance from the shore, and I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to swim that far.

But my daily swims have allowed me to really get to know our beach. I realized that, even while under water, I know exactly where I am, where I would be when I surface. I know where to stop and catch my breath. I know which parts to avoid (from experience, a nasty sea urchin managed to snag me last week). And eventually, I did manage to get to that bit of white sand.

A few hours ago, I swam to the white sands, on my own, during the high tide.

There was no thundering applause for this accomplishment. The sea creatures did not do a Disney medley for me. My arms and legs were exhausted from the effort (Chad said I took in breaths in the most unladylike manner, so maybe that's also why I was so tired), and so I couldn't even do that arms in the air, we-are-the-champions, eff-yeah pose. Except for the rushing of the waves, all was silent. Time duly spent alone, in the midst of the cool, bright, clear water.

But now it's time for a change.

Time to go back to the city, to its noise, to its people. Because, despite the little girl inside me who is cowering in fear, I (have to) think that I am strong enough to live out the rest of my life now.

And I am out-of-this-world scared crapless.

Starting from scratch as a semi-single parent at the age of 32, recovering from a nervous breakdown, with absolutely nothing. I don't think they make name tags big enough for such an assignation. But that's me. Good ol' Katinka.

But nobody can tell me that I can't swim against an onslaught of huge waves now. Nobody can tell me that the tide is too high. Nobody can tell me that there are too many sea urchins. (And if I get bitten, what the hell, I'll just pee on myself again.) Nobody can tell me that the white sand is too far.

Well, they can. And the voices in my head certainly are. And they can tell me I will fail. But then, they would be wrong.

Ah, but my metaphors have worn me out for today. I think I'll nap a bit. Or nuzzle my daughter's neck. Or have some ice cream. (Actually...yeah, ice cream.)

Because it's okay to get tired and rest. And have ice cream. And pizza. Lots of pizza.

Sorry. I'm moving back to Manila in a week, and I'm scaredexcitedohmygodwhatamidoing.

But it's time. Things are definitely changing. And they should, because, with hardly my noticing, I have changed. A lot. It's time that the rest of the world catch up with me, apparently.

So, here I come, Manila! Allons-y! (Of course, I just had to.)