Skinny Dipping

We flew in on a tiny plane, not really knowing what to expect. The Isle of Lewis and Harris, the Hebrides islands just north of mainland Scotland. We needed to get away for a little while and used his birthday as an excuse. We stayed the first night in a small town with an airport and ferry. Our hotel room was up narrow carpeted stairs with a view of the innkeeper's lodgings. We made love that night in a little bed in a room with high ceilings. It was nice to be together as lovers and not parents. It's not a selfish thing to want time to continue to know each other, to reintroduce ourselves, to see how we still work or how we don't. We fell asleep in each other's arms, naked and bare to the world. There's nothing better than that sleep. Post-coital snuggles, completely safe, trusting.

The next morning we jumped in our little rental car and he attempted to navigate the narrow, left-sided roads. I kept making little squeaking sounds to alert him of oncoming obstacles, such as cement posts on the sidewalk. After five near-death experiences, he got a hold of it, winding through country roads towards small beaches with ancient goliath rock formations. We walked in the sand hand in hand, breaking free to make our own observations. We found a cave with various holes seeping in sunlight revealing the incoming tide. We stood there in the dappled darkness, taking in the amplified sounds of the ocean and dripping streams. We found a little abandoned house on the way back to the car and watched a man bring food to several needy sheep on the hillside.

The islands are very similar to Iceland, and we took note of this as we drove along single-lane roads, annoying the locals with our slow pace. The mountains and glens appeared through trees and hillsides. We crept through little villages and attempted to travel through standing stones. I made a point to find a throne wherever I went, and he indulged me with pictures when I found the right spot and position for a regal portrait. We took note of a bus that carried older travelers, which stopped almost everywhere we did. The writing on the side of the hot pink bus suggested these were "sexy seniors" and we came to the conclusion it was a group of either swinging couples or single seniors looking for a good time. We didn't think to ask, we respected either theory.

We slowly traveled south and around the islands stopping at little Airbnbs and sampling local gin. He sampled gin, I just walked around and enjoyed the buildings and bottle designs.

Then there were the beaches. The Hebrides boast endless stretches of white sandy beaches that appear tropical, seeming out of place. One in particular was dotted with small cottages with white sands expanding for miles. We found a place off the side of a little cliff with some stairs heading into the sand. When we stepped foot on the beach, our feet were consumed by the soft aftermath of the ocean tide. We took off our shoes and made our way slowly towards a rock wall near a little stream. We both looked like goblins, hunched over with bent knees, hobbling through quicksand. We had to move quickly or else we would stick to the bottom. We giggled through panting breaths until we reached a more rocky floor. On the other side of the rock wall was a mountain of smaller rocks and a grass-topped outcropping. We made our way to the grass, climbing over rocks, finding small footholds. We made our way over a grassy hill to one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. A small bay with shallow emerald water surrounded by volcanic rock. In the middle of the bay were other rock formations splitting the beach in two.

I grew up in the water. My name means "of the sea" and I lived close to rivers, lakes, and the ocean all my life. Swimming is something that makes me feel whole again, like I belong in the water, like I'm returning home. So when I saw this beach I knew I was going in. There were some people around, but with the grassy hill and the rocks it was fairly private, but in all honesty, I didn't care. My husband, on the other hand, doesn't gravitate towards the water like I do. He doesn't find water soothing or comfortable nor does he enjoy public nudity. So when he saw me strip down and dive in the water, he paused for a minute. I could see him contemplate what was unfolding in front of him. But this is why we work, it only took him a beat then he was stripping down as well. He saw this was a moment in time for both of us. Just to live and enjoy! We played in the water like children, laughing, diving, and floating. We embraced and cherished the moment of happiness. The water was perfectly balanced, neither too warm nor too cold, ideal for a brief swim. It felt purifying, as if it was destined to be our moment.

When we were ready, we ran out of the water and dressed quickly. We walked along the rugged coastline and back to the car. I stopped for another throne picture opportunity before we finally drove away towards our next bed. I was so proud of us, our little moment of bravery. We both agreed that we needed to come back again, another time and stay for a while. Bring our children and make new memories with the life we have created together.

Be well.