The summer I turned 14, my sister and I walked to the local high school a few days a week for free swim. The school hired teenage lifeguards, adding a sense of security. 

One afternoon in the pool, and for reasons I’ve long forgotten, another girl climbed onto my shoulders, pushing my head below water. I was unprepared for the dunk, so I hadn’t taken a breath. Unable to lift her off my shoulders, I opened my mouth to scream, and pool water rushed in. Those seconds were among the most terrifying of my young life. I don’t know exactly how I freed myself, but I remember finally surfacing and seeing a parade of young lifeguards, oblivious to my recent plight. I could have drowned, but they were none the wiser.

Trauma has a way of surfacing, catching you unaware. I think those moments of fear, panic, and dread mirror what I feel most days living in a country where democracy is unravelling at an alarming clip, with a cruel, bombastic, and entitled man-child rewriting the rules to line his pockets, and to satisfy his insatiable ego. Friends I hold dear are in a similar boat, feeling numb, angry, frightened, sad, and, dare I say it, powerless. It’s bad enough that this is happening in the US, but his actions are reverberating around the world. I am sad and scared most days.

Having said all that, I’ve missed writing this blog. The brutality throughout the month of January at the hands of ICE knocked me off my feet. It seemed that anything I might share here is trite.

I’m trying to reframe those thoughts and to begin anew, but I wanted to share my absence from this space first.

Thank you for following Gardening Nirvana. Your readership means more to me than you know.

Alys