Woman in the Lake - Letters From Heather — 2018

[Update: first time seeing this WIP! Wish I was still that perky, but in this heat, I’d take the water. Anyway, adding it here! So, here’s the already existing text. 🙃😗 — Signed, Me, 1 day after initial post.

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Yeah, a little WIP glimpse that was sent along ages ago, from @AldoInHeaven. It was tantalizing for me, so I hope it is for you too! Otherwise, this was always intended to be the very beginning of this Alternate Reality Heather story, so why not wrap up by returning to the place you started to discover you know it for the first time? Full circle. 2018 was a year of transition for me, for sure, so this "Chapter 1" hits personal, which I think is kinda lovely. (If it works for Better Call Saul, it works for me!)]

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My Godparents are the kinds of people who take godparenting seriously. Longtime family friends, sure, but those friends who have just been around since way before I was born, so they’re basically family at this point? I would hang out with their kids growing up, everyone still keeps in touch, that kind of stuff.

So, as is their custom in finding out that I’m going on this little adventure to Spain, they rolled out the red carpet. Or, in this case, said that their lake cottage was going to be empty, and maybe I should head up there for a few days to decompress. Which, um, yes, absolutely I will live at your house, and work from my computer,  and drink your alcohol for a week or so!

Cottage is key — this place is barely more than a living space and a pair of bedrooms. Uber-quaint. But it’s comfortable, far from everything, and shucks, it even got WiFi.

And there’s the lake, too. They own the small stretch of the shore that’s mainly unbuildable marshland, except for where the cottage sits. So with a little trek along some steep bluffs and a thick overgrowth of trees on my own private estate for the week, I could doff my finest tweeds and go-a-exploring.

I’m glad I didn’t wear my finest tweeds, because it got muddy. BUT. I did find the sweetest little… pool? Lagoon? Estuary? What would be the technical term for that… a pond connected to a lake... I’ll look that up later. Maybe it was the way the sun was hitting it, smattering through the thick foliage, but the scene reminded me of a little of a Southern Gothic Monet painting, punctuated by patches of yellow- and purple-flowering vines.

Through the brush, the view of the lake was a wide one. Not a lot of boats. And if anyone snuck up on me, I could always scream, “You git’ offa mah laynd!” (I’m from the South, so I can say that.)

I stripped off my track pants and tee shirt. My Godparents had recommended this spot, and they were right, it is private. All the convincing I needed. I hadn’t been in the water in ages, and I’ve just always enjoyed swimming naked. Unclasping the five hooks at my back, I cast the soup bowls into the pile, and kicked my panties onto a twig.

I can suck it up and not be a water wuss, but it was still a little chilly after winter. Braving through a few deepening sloshes, I guessed this little pond to be only about as deep as my mid-thigh. Maybe I would brave a dunk at some point.

But in the meantime, just… meander in the water. Trace my fingertips along the surface. Wet my hands and maybe run a little through my hair. Enjoy the tickling traces as the cool water streams down a chest which has been way too cooped up lately. I literally couldn’t remember the last time I’d been naked outside, but too long. The girls have got to breathe, sometimes.

It’s been almost a year since the last spurt. Usually, it’s like, six or seven months, so maybe this is it? I don’t want to count my chickens. But I’ve been feeling fine, and I haven’t had to worry about scrambling for new clothes lately. I think I can live with this size. “Heather with the Boobs.” Might not be a bad Instagram handle if I get the guys to put the girls out into the world. Wonder if it’s available...

A cool breeze swept in from the lake, pulling my skin tightly. I breathed deep, bending my legs to bring me into the water with a staccato slap as Natalia and Olga made contact. And then, the lovely way boobs feel weightless underwater.