Swim Champion

Keep swimming Isabel. It is a warm black ocean, and you are the only fish my love. There is no need to get a handle of your direction, not just yet. For you, up and down are close friends. Right and left are two words to describe the same spinning wheel. I know you can hear raised angry voices, but keep swimming. There is no conflict in your fitted aquarium, just a pulsating reassurance of expansion. Kick your feet to signal your enjoyment of sweet tea. It is our secret language. Magical letters are falling into place rapidly. Swirling madly with precision, they have rendered a chin that is unmistakably your grandfather's. We may have to move into a bigger place, but keep swimming Isabel. Your place is never in doubt. I can see your fingers. You probably don't believe me, but that is because your eyes are closed. Open your hands silly girl. What reason is there for clenching your fists? Above all, keep swimming Isabel. Maybe I am guessing at shadows, but it appears you may need a cap. Your mother swears she will be able to pluck a strand upon your first official meet. My underwater ballerina, things will get worse and better at the exact same time. Your maneuvers have become increasingly limited. The shoreline hasn't moved; you've gotten bigger. Do you know what that means Isabel? Months of practice have concluded, and you're feeling quite stuck. Yes Isabel, it was all a class. Now hold your position. There is no starter pistol. It's time to race into a mystery that your mother and I will take a lifetime to explain because we only half understand it. Your time will be recorded, and it will never be broken.