bids for connection
on swimming and spiders
a few days ago, after breakfast and before the day gained speed, I saw two women bobbing together in the lake.
in a summer when most of America is melting in the heat, the water was cool and the air was even cooler but they were completely unhurried.
they communed there amidst docile ripples, only their rowdy laughter echoing off granite gave away the beautiful air of dangerous, beloved conspiracy that makes up the best friendships between women who have, undoubtedly, seen some shit.
days later, after ice cream and before our beds called us in, my two daughters lingered together in the lake.
in a summer when so much forest is on fire, the blue sky was only broken by white wisps and the water stayed crystalline.
they conducted a tête-à-tête in their favorite place, only their childish giggles bouncing off the swim buoy gave away the secret seriousness that exists between sisters who together will, inevitably, see some shit.
a spider made a web in my side mirror. for weeks we had a routine. I start the car, he retreats behind the glass. when I park again, he comes out to rebuild the web broken by the wind.
recently he was caught off guard and didn't retreat in time.
he held on all the way to the dentist. clinging with so many legs to such fine silk.
I promise I kept an eye on the road, but I also kept one eye on my spider as it fought for dear life.
and I swear in that short distance: I saw it panic, I saw it fight, I saw it surrender.
in the end, it survived.
what could be more relatable than that on the way to the dentist, on the way through life.