What a morning, the sunlight so brilliant, the sky wide open and ancient, never ending deep blue. Butterflies, sleeping cat, a mild breeze, the midday heat only a guess away.

Slowly, carefully, my balance has been returning. All that has come off the moorings and has been sliding around inside my head is slowly settling. As I put one step in front of the other I can feel once again (wooden floor, smooth patio stones, dewy grass) how solid it all is. I am not quite there yet, but my center is back, carefully, tenderly, allowing me to stand and bend and reach without falling or bumping into walls.

S just called from the road, they are heading down to the big lake, we will be sailing on Sunday, she says and I can hear the delight in her voice. My water baby.

Once in a while when we were living in paradise we would sneak into the posh tourist hotels with their big pools lit up after sunset and music tinkling from hidden speakers, sipping rum cocktails at a bar made out of tropical wood and some shiny materials from far away, watching our little six year old swim, S and another girl her age. Watching the expensive tourists watching our kids swim, one with blond curls, one with dark curls, diving in at one end, almost crossing the entire length of blue water, brightly lit from below, before simultaneously lifting their shiny wet heads, laughing and jumping up at the other end, diving in again and back and forth in a beautiful dance under water. Two mermaids, two sleek dolphins perfectly matched, deliriously happy and healthy.