Swimming

I walked into a familiar place with a familiar person.  I looked into a familiar face, and began something new.  

It takes effort to escape the current of the comfortable.  The current is easy.  It's the way we would float without exerting any effort at all.  Yet, as life goes, the conversations that mean something are rarely found within the flow.  They require struggle and the possibility of failure.  

I sat across from my Dad and placed my phone on the table.  I pressed record, and we tried to talk.  We left comfort behind in search of the right words.

I reached for questions.  My Dad reached for memories.

As the minutes passed, his answers smoothed into a string of stories.  One memory brought up another that brought up another.  We were moving again, but not floating. 

This was more like swimming.