Like many other ventures that I’ve put off until I no longer could, I jumped in head first. Now this path makes space for you as well:
for those who never went to summer camp, and learned to swim too late, who hated the mosquitos drowning in the chlorine
for those who spent summers with scraped knees after jumping into inflatable pools upon the pavement; make-believe Olympians flying into shallow water
for those who once lay down on a tar beach during humid nights
for those who dream of the mountaintop even when the faces of the L.L. Bean Catalogue are as real and useful as fiction
for those who say “I’m on my way” when leaving the house, but have yet to even enter the shower
for those who exist inside and outside at once, who ponder the act of exiting, returning, and then leaving once more, but never staying for too long.
for those who always move and wish to keep moving, who can run down a neighborhood freely, maybe even returning home safely and alive
for those who push forward only to realize they’ve been moving in circles
for those who move with and against the body, who speak, sing, and cry while somehow also sitting in silence.
For all of you, and so many more who float and wander, working towards a mundaneness that feels divine:
I am so glad you’re here.