Amy

I’ve been terrified of water since I was a baby. When I heard myself answer “sure, I’ll give it a try” to my friend Stacey’s insistence that we go for a cold dip in the San Francisco Bay, I could not have been more surprised. That shaky attempt was two years ago, and I offer myself up to whatever conditions the bay presents now six days a week. I notice the pelicans flying low, the moon when it is still high, the color of the Golden Gate Bridge as it shades from coral to deep earth in the seasons of the sun. I hear my friends chatter about everything and nothing; I watch, overvigilant, for waves and unsteadying currents. My fear still wades in with me every morning, perhaps smoothed a bit by the practice but starkly present, always. The cold -- and everything else, really -- takes my breath away each time. I’ve gotten in this water with my heart broken and my heart soaring, after a cancer diagnosis and all through radiation and on days of clear scans. When I get out, no matter the weather in the sky or the water or myself, the word “triumphant” scrolls across my thoughts. A daily triumph? Good thing I decided to try.