I reached out to the surface, which was growing distant at an alarming rate. I could see the shrinking forms of other insouciant swimmers above me, but they did not heed my silent screams, which became mute bubbles. I grew weary from frantically windmilling my limbs. My lungs ached, and my eyes closed, finally surrendering to the deep.
Five Years Earlier:
The diving board wobbled dubiously as I inched along it, gripping it’s rough sides as I half crawled, half shuffled along it with as much coordination as my four-year old body could manage. It was a pale green, a color which I would have ordinarily admired, but at the moment, there was no other color which I despised more. I felt like the unfortunate captive of a pirate, walking the plank …show more content…
I imagined all of my friends laughing at me as they paddled around the sacred deep end while I relearned how to float on my back. My fear of ridicule and redundancy seemed to overpower my fear of the diving board for the moment, and I swiveled to face the water again. Then, before I could lose what little courage I had, I crawled off the diving board, with nothing but infinite azure water to embrace me.
Two Years later:
The sun blazed down on me. I could practically feel sunburns developing on my arms despite the fact that my mother had quite literally bathed me in greasy sunscreen earlier that morning. I raced towards the invitingly cool pool, flinging my towel from my shoulders and leaping in without waiting for my friends, who had hung their towels in a more civilized fashion. By the time the rest of my class had dove in, I had adjusted to the frigid pool, which was an abrupt contrast to the scorching condition which I was in just a few moments ago. Our coach, who was wearing a pair of brilliant red swimming trunks, joined us shortly. We completed a few warm-ups, and I had the honor of being the winner of the revered Underwater Breath-Holding Challenge.
Five Years Earlier:
The diving board wobbled dubiously as I inched along it, gripping it’s rough sides as I half crawled, half shuffled along it with as much coordination as my four-year old body could manage. It was a pale green, a color which I would have ordinarily admired, but at the moment, there was no other color which I despised more. I felt like the unfortunate captive of a pirate, walking the plank …show more content…
I imagined all of my friends laughing at me as they paddled around the sacred deep end while I relearned how to float on my back. My fear of ridicule and redundancy seemed to overpower my fear of the diving board for the moment, and I swiveled to face the water again. Then, before I could lose what little courage I had, I crawled off the diving board, with nothing but infinite azure water to embrace me.
Two Years later:
The sun blazed down on me. I could practically feel sunburns developing on my arms despite the fact that my mother had quite literally bathed me in greasy sunscreen earlier that morning. I raced towards the invitingly cool pool, flinging my towel from my shoulders and leaping in without waiting for my friends, who had hung their towels in a more civilized fashion. By the time the rest of my class had dove in, I had adjusted to the frigid pool, which was an abrupt contrast to the scorching condition which I was in just a few moments ago. Our coach, who was wearing a pair of brilliant red swimming trunks, joined us shortly. We completed a few warm-ups, and I had the honor of being the winner of the revered Underwater Breath-Holding Challenge.