taught myself not to want

went back to the bay this morning. alone. wind off the south west. flags pulled flat on the club.

went in anyway. did the slow laps. just the catch and the pull and my arm going round.

on the fourth one the shoulder clicked. clean. not the bad click. just a clean click and it moved fine.

I stood up and stood there. water on my face. salt in my mouth. felt like the bay used to feel. like before.

did not say that out loud.

showered at the change rooms. walked up to acland street. long black. drank it slow.

got home. receipt still on the fridge. envelope still in the drawer.

sat at the counter and looked at the spot where the phone was. coach's voice in my head. the way he said my name.

the truth is I am not scared of the answer. I am scared of what it means to want it. I have spent two years teaching myself not to.

my body cannot fix this one for me.

I know that today.