In this Australian city, midsummer can bring days of temperatures above forty degrees. Outside, the heat is like the inside of an oven. Sunlight pierces the skin.
Christmas comes in summer here—barbecues and small parties, summer lunches, sparkling wine and cocktails, holidays by the sea. At tables outside bars and restaurants, people sit talking over cold drinks.
I prepare a Christmas meal with the big Boxing Day cricket match on. Dry sunlight and a fresh breeze come through the window. The smell of roast chicken drifts through the room.
I hear the familiar chatter of the cricket commentators in the background. A hard cricket ball hits the thick bat with a clack, followed by a roar from the crowd. Two batsmen run at full speed between the wickets, their footsteps quick against the ground. The wicketkeeper catches the ball in his gloves with a smack, and the fielders call loudly to one another.
Those are the sounds of summer.
After the day’s work, I quickly change into a swimsuit, throw a towel and sunscreen into the bag, and head to the sea. A singlet and shorts over the swimsuit. Leather sandals.
In summer, I swim in the sea. My head in the water, under the sun. In the vast water, with sand beneath my feet. I just swim.
On hot summer days, many people come to this beach, about thirty minutes from the city. I park near a small village with restaurants and bars, then walk through a quiet residential area towards the beach.
Large street trees spread their branches into a canopy, blocking the sunlight and casting deep shadows on the road. It’s six in the evening, and it seems even hotter now. The sun is still high, and there is still a long time until sunset. The hot summer afternoon stretches the day out.
As I walk towards the beach, I hear a small child’s voice from the footpath across the road. A young voice, talking energetically. Then a little cry, and the voice stops.
I cross to the other side. A small boy is crouching beside a fallen scooter, holding his knee.
“Are you okay?”
“Um, I don’t know. I think I fell…”
He looks too young to have started school. A large round helmet sits on his small head, and slightly long blond hair spreads softly from underneath it. Fortunately, he is not hurt.
“Is your mum or dad around?”
“No, but my house is only a few doors away.”
Near the fallen scooter, a slightly torn paper parcel of warm food lies on the ground. I give the paper bag to the boy, pick up his scooter and walk him home. He trots along beside me.
“I don’t know how that happened…” he mutters to himself. His soft, round cheek turned towards the ground.
I help him open the large gate to his house with a creak. I hand him the scooter, and he looks down, a little shy, and says, “Thank you.” Then he goes off calling, “Daddy!” I call out to him to take care and continue towards the beach. Behind me, I can still hear him—“Daddy, a lady helped me…”
A wide road with cars constantly passing runs in front of the entrance to the beach. Waiting at the lights, I desperately want to swim. I need to get into the water. It feels almost unreasonable.
The sea here is close to Antarctica, and even in summer the water stays cold unless the day is very hot. I flinch as my feet enter the water. Slowly, I move further in, letting the body adjust to the temperature. I splash a little water over myself with my hands. As the water rises towards the heart, I almost feel like screaming.
I swim back and forth over a stretch of about twenty metres, parallel to the beach, careful not to go too far from shore. With goggles on, I alternate between breaststroke and freestyle. There are only one or two others swimming back and forth like this. Most people don’t swim this seriously in the heat of summer.
I push forward, stretch my arms out and slip headfirst into the water. My shoulders, back, waist and legs form a curve as my whole body stretches underwater. After a while, the head floats towards the surface. Sunlight on the face.
The silence and muffled sound underwater. Sunlight moving on the white sand below. Above the water, the wind and glare, the hot air and the sound of the waves—repeating, again and again.
Time stretches strangely in the sea—I think about how much to relax the body in freestyle, how to catch the water farther ahead and pull, how far to put the head underwater in breaststroke, when to open the arms… Nearly an hour passes before I know it.
Swimming like this, I sometimes see something large and dark, like a rock. Somehow, it looks like a piece of iron left behind by a war long ago, something that could have a serial number stamped on it.
A small change in the weather can make the sea look completely different. On grey, overcast days before a cool change, few people go into the water. The water is darker, and waves rise in front of me. White foam forms as they roll towards the shore.
Getting into such a sea, I struggle against the waves pushing me back. I move forward, then a wave knocks my feet out from under me and rolls me over, even in the shallows. Seaweed and sand cloud the water. The grey sky, and the greenish water reflecting it.
What would it feel like to float alone in the sea with no coastline in sight? To be alone in a vast ocean that looks the same in every direction, and no one knows you are there?
When I grow tired from swimming and my back starts to ache, I return to the beach. As I reach the shallows, the sea tugs at me and I stagger a little. I hop on one leg, trying to get the water out of one ear, and lose my balance.
On the beach, people read under umbrellas or lie in the sun trying to get tanned. The sun is still high and the heat has not faded. After swimming for so long, the body feels heavy, covered in seawater, with sand gritty under the feet. I take a quick shower and change, and finally feel relieved.
I walk slowly back to the car, letting the wind dry my wet hair. The shadows under the large trees seem a shade deeper now. It’s the time when people pause and sit down to dinner.
The sound of a shower and the faint scent of shampoo drift out from somewhere. Neighbours talk by the roadside. The smell of meat cooking in a garden. People park their cars and walk towards the village.
Soon, a summer night will begin.
