Sank silently from my memory and disappeared ‘neath the continuous shrug of the sea,

I was disappointed.
Something I wanted to happen,
didn’t happen,
And it felt personal.
A singular attack on me and my hopes.
A blow to my dreams and ambitions.

Mother understood but didn’t say much.
Dad planned everything afresh.
A new tack, or something like that, he called it.
Tomorrow we’ll do this, that and something else.
I felt relieved, and for a day we waited.

With nothing better to do, I went to the beach with mum.
She had found this “spot”, so she said.
And it was beautiful.
White sand corralled into a rocky cove.
I told her about my disappointment and she listened.
She was always a good listener.

Then, she said: “shall we go for a swim?”
It came as a surprise.
We weren’t really swimmers in our family.
I mean, we all swam but…
Anyway, there we were, alone in this cove.
The plush clop hush of our smooth
Breaststroke in the un-liberated tide.

Still, aqua marine, turquoise.
All knowing. Keeper of all the unutterable secrets of this world.
All our experiences stripped away in times unforgiving breath.
We were no longer mother and son, we were collaborators,
swimming across the tide.
Neither of us spoke.

That was the only time I remember swimming with my mum.
Now, that day looms across my dented brow.
And the disappointment of the previous day,
Sank silently from my memory and disappeared ‘neath the continuous shrug of the sea,
Like so many of those critically important hours
And unlike some others.

© Shoreditchpoet

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D. Denise Dianaty is an artist, art photographer, poet, writer-activist, and self-published author. Much of her poetry is autobiographical or writer-activist. She considers herself a writing activist for a just and equitable society.

Swimming With My Mum was originally published in WE PAW Bloggers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.