Walking along on a grand adventure! A quick glance up from under the shelter of the canopy of a great pine. Down along with speed around the trickle of a small stream where sticks race off on their grand Prix. Over the ground that was carpeted with brown and green acorns. Hiding in a fort under a fir tree, surrounded by droopy branches. Over the troll bridge encircled by marshy grass and birch trees. Skipping over stones to cross a great chasm, or maybe just mud. Dashing to my family at the picnic table, said hi, and dashed off to the dock to peak at tadpoles the size of a golfball, starting to make their legs.
Tap, tap, tap across the wooden planks. A glimmer of light reflects up into my eyes. I spot a small school of fish! Time to pursue. Tap, tap, tap, slam! Suddenly my body is turning like a hand on a clock. The air sounds a gentle whoosh in my ear. I see the gently lapping water draw near, now darker than before. It begins to look like a wall. Suddenly I’m right on top of it. A smack like a slap slams into my face from the thing that isn’t even moving. Sploosh! I’m into the water, submerged and out of breath. My eyes have slammed shut, it is dark, where have I gone? Am I alright?
Am I alright?
The thing I carry is not guilt, it’s not regret, it’s not anything to do with another person. The thing I carry is a perpetual hatred, not for any group, but for having my head submerged in liquid. It outweighs all common fears for me and has caused me random bouts of stress throughout my life. It has delayed my want to swim, and still forces me to wear a PFD in water above my head, even though I can now swim fine without it. I have not experienced much trauma in my life, but still, this small event holds a piece of me, whenever I see deep water.
I feel as though I could have developed this piece more.