To Quote Dickens

Early morning Barton Springs Swim Report 3/21

I wake up to the sound of rain, & consider not swimming. Then I remember that submersion is the point, & shift my carcass.

At I walk to the water I can hear one of the Egyptian geese shouting in the dark: parenthood. I haven’t been swimming in daylight so I haven’t seen the goslings since Sunday. The pool seems peculiarly dark to me, & then I realize: the skyline of Austin is gone. It’s a trick of the weather, I know that intellectually, not the absence of buildings & light but the presence of fog. It’s total, unnerving, primordial: somebody has strayed from the path & stepped on a butterfly & now Austin isn’t.

The buildings are gone all through my swim, two laps. Swimming has acquainted me with varieties of fog, from the extremely local, only on the pool, to the various cast-off veils on the roads. I didn’t notice any fog on my drive, & all around the pool is absolutely clear. It’s only that downtown Austin has been erased. I swim. I think, as I did as a child when things confused me, Am I dreaming? What if I’m dreaming? Is this what a dream feels like?