Back on track

It's quite soon. Gotta shave, gotta dress.
Shirt, pants, boots.
Did I forget the shorts for swimming? No, they're on.
Scarf, jacket.
Towel, extra jacket in the bag.
Earphones, music.
Off to the street..
Walk to the Boulevard, meet my friends, tell them of my plan, hear them saying I'm crazy.
Stay adamant, but polite.
Smile while I tell them that I don't mind what they say.
Wait until they buy some food and look the newspapers.
Lead the way to the port.
Get there, undress.
Only the underwear, the shorts for swimming and wristband remain on.
Damn, water's cold.
Pity I can't dive in as I wanted.
Well, too late to go back.
I get in the water.
Cold, very cold.
I start swimming.
I hear my friends saying they'll meet me at the beach.
No way I can keep up with the same style all the way, so I swift from one style to another.
With a lot less elegance that I would like to admit, I must add.
That doesn't make it any easier.
I can see people looking, I can imagin their surprised faces while they see a guy swimming in the sea in November.
They must think I'm crazy.
I don't give up and follow.
Many weird thoughts cross my mind, like what am I going to write about ths? A detailed chronicle? That looks good.
Actually, it took longer than I thought to reach ground, but when I did, it felt great.
I had never tried anything that brave, or stupid.
But most important, I feel better with myself.
As if I'm closer to be me again.
I took some seconds to think about what I had done:
'Today, 26th of November, I have swum from the port to the beachr'
Then, a friend handed me a towel, and asked me to tell him the next time I planned to do something similar.
I laughed when I understood that he would gladly join me the next time.
After all, we both have endured much the past weeks.
But this is it.
I'm here again.
Fully loaded.
Put together again.
Back on track.