The Swimmers

by Julie Otsuka

Archipelago, nobody gets it (life span too short). And then, of course, there’s you, the tiny cohort of one. You got it. — there is no “meaning” or “higher purpose” to your affliction. It is not a “gift” or a “test” or an opportunity for personal growth and transformation. It will not heal your angry, wounded soul or make you a kinder, more compassionate person who is less judgmental of others. It will not ennoble your paid carers (“She’s a saint”) or enrich the lives of those around you who have always loved and adored you. It will just make them sad. Nor will it bring you closer to the higher being or liberate you from your formerly petty concerns. If you worried about your weight before, you will worry about your weight now (“I’m still too fat,” you will say). All it will do is bring you closer to your own inevitable end. — cancer would be better, you may be thinking. Or heart disease. Or a bullet straight through to the brain. Or maybe you are simply filled with regret for all the things you did not do. You should have done more crossword puzzles, taken more risks, signed up for that Great Books class, used up all your vacation days, removed the plastic slipcovers from the “good” furniture (“I’m turning into my mother!” you once said, accurately), worn those expensive heels in the back of your closet you were saving for that special occasion (which would be what?). You should have lived (but what did you do instead? You played it safe and stayed in your lane). Or maybe...

Just Remember the soul inside the body