Anne Lamott

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/12/20/aging-friendship-outdoors/

She had come planning to swim, which I hadn’t as the water is too cold for me, and she took off all her clothes, right there and then. “Do you feel shy?” I asked as she walked to the bank.

“Nope. This here is what I done got. This is what me being alive looks like now.”

She scooched her butt over a tree trunk, like the world’s most graceful Komodo dragon, lifting one leg over and then the other, and then slipped into the water.

“Don’t you go drown now, because I am not getting into that freezing cold water,” I called to her although we both knew I would. Then she dipped down to her shoulders and swam a few breaststrokes forward, as if gliding into the arms of a sweater of cold water. She paddled slowly out from underneath the dark porte cochere of trees at the shore, turned over onto her back, and floated awhile with her face turned up to the sky.