Her toes said, “You don’t want to do this,” as they let the water trickle through them. Chills sprinted up her spin.

She spanned the distance, saw the rock at the other side, part of another world. It was big, the size of four cows standing side by side. It jutted out on one side, and when she got close, she would remember that it was even bigger underneath. It was surrounded by trees and water.

The morning air hinted at warmth coming later in the day, but it hadn’t arrived yet. The sun was just glancing over the horizon. The water blazed with orange, fiery light.

The water lapped up, covering both her feet and crashing into her ankles this time. Her whole body felt the cold, but she was ready now. She’d sam across before but never alone, never so early in the morning.

She was careful to approach the water. Almost too careful as her body began to actually experience the c old. She pulled her goggles over her eyes and let the water cover her. SHe pushed away from the rocky bottom, ready to awaken, as if for the first time. Ready for the journey ahead of her.

She entered a new world. One that didn’t involve other people. She felt sharp cold surround her arms with every sroke. Her face was focused down, but she could hardly see through the mucky water.

Breathe.

There was hardly wind and the water was still save for a gentle rock, as easy as a mothers arms swaying a baby to sleep.

Breathe.

Her muscles were tight from the cold and she could feel the stretch of each reaching stroke as she neared her destination with great speed, though it still remained a speck in the distance.

Breathe.

Her muscles started to warm up as she worked harder, fighting the distance. The water started to feel comfortable.

Breathe.

Her body was balanced on its axis, helping her move straight through the water. She double checked her direction with a quick head peak forward.

Breathe.

It was this type of pain that she lived for, swam for, the cold water, needles on her hot skin, her breath steaming the air with its heat.

Breath.

Arms propelling and feet pounding, but it would be greaceful to watch, if anyone had been there.

Breathe.

Half way there, fatigue starts to hit. So she kicks harder. Her legs almost numb from the cold, the work.

Breathe.

She is feeling relief as she approaches the rock and furthers herself from the start line.

Breathe.

Relaxation. Perhaps not quite the right word. But a good feeling none the less.

Breathe.

Three fourths there. The rock, a slippery goal, almost within reach.

Breathe.

The though of stopping doesn’t even cross her mind.

Breathe.

The shadows of the shore cover her head.

Breathe.

The waters grows cold again.

Breathe.

Chills go from head to toe.

Breathe.

Ten more strokes.

Breathe.

Muscles are hot again.

Breathe.

Push to the end.

Breathe.

One more.

BREATHE.

GASP! She gripped the mossy edge of the rock letting air expand her lungs, letting her body cool down. She climbed up the wet edge, took a seat, and gazed across the water that now glistened more like diamonds than fire. She noticed the sun a bit higher than it had been when she started. The first family was starting to set up a picnic at the opposite shore.

Her goal was accomplished and she felt as if she had done something important.

She jumped back in and started swimming back to shore.

It was dark. But not too dark. The sky was clear and the trees were naked, letting the glow of the moon cast their shadows on the street. There was gravel being crushed under my tires. It was an unmistakeable sound, almost lonely. Like there was something between my car and the rest of the world. The music was off. The heat was on. My cheeks were pink with warmth. The crushed gravel gave way to smooth pavement, no lights were on. I killed the engine and took a moment to look at the scene.

It was a stranger. A huge shadow casting itself over me. I stared at the dark windows. The closed garage door. The snow on the roof. When did the snow fall? Has it been like this since last winter? Ice patches covered the driveway. Snow hid the grass. I was enveloped by the woods. Eerie, but familiar.

I could hear my breath, I could even see it. I could feel the air piercing my lungs with coolness as I shut the door. Standing on my feet for the first time in hours I stretched. I took my time getting to the door of the house that shadowed over me.

The door opened with the same key, the same creak, the same give. It smelled like Christmas. The tree was already up. The first time I hadn’t been there to help; it was decorated with lights and ornaments, that I had made. I stripped my feet of the shoes that kept them company on the drive. I peeled off my hat and gloves and coat and cast them aside on the chair with the monster for a back rest.

I followed the smell of evergreen and turned on the twinkling lights to see its magic. Everyone was sleeping. I followed the smell of cookies to the kitchen and tasted the chocolate chips, almost warm. Not quite, maybe a few hours ago.

I sat down on the couch that wasn’t quite long enough to be a couch. I felt my body ready to sleep, but I hadn’t absorbed enough of it yet. I layed my head down and curled my feet under me. It was cold, but I hardly felt that. It was normal. I took in the silence. I took in the overwhelming smell of the holiday. I took in the cool air. I took in the feel of such a familar almost couch.

I was ready to sleep in my bed. I unplugged the tree lights. Turned off the kitchen lights, but not until I stole another cookie. I walked up the stairs, recognizing each step, letting my hand glide up the rail. I closed me eyes and dragged my fingers along the wall until I felt the hinge of my door. I pushed it open slowly. The moonlight was shining in over my made bed. Not made by me. The floor was clear. Pictures were missing from my dresser. I was already dressed in my pajamas, anticipating an unwillingness to go through the efforts it would take to change. There was no clock in the room, so I didn’t know what time it was, but it was no longer night. It had turned into early morning. I could feel cool air seeping in from the window that never quite got fixed. I breathed in deep, remembering all the nights here. Was it different? Or was I?

I pulled back the covers, stacked my pillows up and crawled into the smooth sheets. I moved around. Not to find a comfortable position, that was easy, but to feel the sheets, to feel the bed and the pillows. To catch the shadows being cast, to hear the rustle of the sheets. Then I was still and listened. Quiet. I let my eyes droop but my mind wouldn’t shut off for another hour. But when it did, it was for hours.

The light didn’t wake me up in the morning. Breakfast did. The smell of cinnomon rolls found its way under my door. I looked out the window, the trees covered in snow. The sun glaring in. I slide out of the sheets and opened my door.

I was home.