This afternoon I put my hands in the cold water of the sink and stayed a moment longer than necessary.
I cannot explain it well. But there is something in water that dissolves what the day has tightened. The knuckles, the jaw, that knot in the throat that I sometimes cannot even name. Water receives it all and returns no judgement.
When I was little, my mother said that water washed away sorrows. I took it literally: I cried and washed my face. Over the years I have discovered she was not far off. Water has a way of reminding us that we are bodies, that we are alive, that we can let go.
Today I showered slowly, feeling every drop. I let the water caress my shoulders, that place where I store the world without noticing. And for a moment, the tension of the week went down the drain with a naturalness that moved me.
Perhaps next time I feel my body heavy, I will not look for a complicated solution. I will put my hands under the water and remember that sometimes the simplest thing is what heals the most.