There were once a man and a woman, and they were in a big, beautiful, and deep sea. It was the color of nautical twilight – a deep purple that was stained with elegance, memory, and the softness of a heartbeat. They were treading water. It is unclear why the man was treading water, but the woman chose to stay with him.
She could not touch him, and could not help. But she chose to tread water beside him to make sure he knew he was not alone. She wanted to bring substance to what would otherwise be empty. What is heavy is not always burdensome if it carries meaning. What is light is not always freedom. The heaviness of the task was the ultimate fulfillment. The lightness of the quiet was only lonely when the lapping of the water declared its presence.
He is treading and waiting for something different. Maybe a boat. She could not be a boat. And so she waits with him, also treading water. At some point, she will become tired and be forced to return to shore. But she will not regret the time spent next to him. And the story is OK, because she does not want to be a boat. She will return to the shore, and walk along it collect shells. What is important is not an ultimate state of finding a boat. What is meaningful is making the choice to wait, floating not in water but laughter, and knowing that the joy and strength resides within her.
Suggested Citation:
Sochat, Vanessa. "Treading Water." @vsoch (blog), 14 Apr 2026, https://vsoch.github.io/2026/treading-water/ (accessed 14 Apr 26).