The Final Plunge

I’m standing at the edge of the lake

Steeling myself, preparing to jump in.

Peering into the murky coldness of the water,

And readjusting my eyes until I see myself, reflected.

I’ve been here three times before:

Once as a couple, excited and nervous,

I grabbed Eddie’s hand and plunged in.

The second time we brought our baby,

And I jumped quickly

Surprised by the chest-numbing shock as I hit the water.

The third time Eddie and the kids

Splashed on the shore

And I dangled my legs in the water

Letting them warm up

Until I knew I was ready.

I’ve looked forward to coming back here

For the last year.

Planned, begged, mapped out my route.

But finding my feet on the greening planks

Of the rickety dock

Is a bit of a surprise.

Because I know that this is my last visit to this beach,

My very own, favorite spot.

And I haven’t quite wrapped my head around the idea

That I’ll only come back

In memories,

Pictures,

And glimpses of others packing their bags,

Loading their cars,

And heading for the lake.

I’ll still go on vacations,

To show the kids New England

Or the red rocks of Southern Utah.

To soccer camps

Graduation trips

And family reunions,

But I’ll never be here again.

So even though I’m ready

For the ear-popping, icy darkness,

As I dive to the bottom of the lake,

I wonder if I should go back to the cabin

Grab a book

And put off the deliciousness

Of the last dive

For one more day.

originally published 1/06