The last swim of the year

Every year I tell myself I'll swim into November, and every year October wins.

Today the water was eleven degrees. Two of us went in, and a woman on the beach with a flask clapped for us, which made it worth it before we were even wet.

You don't really swim in water that cold. You walk in, you say a word you wouldn't say at work, you count to sixty, and you come out feeling like someone switched you back on.

Then soup, a towel that is never quite dry enough, and the bus home with salt in my hair. See you in May, sea.

Photo: Amy Skyer on Unsplash