To the waters

ｄｅｕｒ

My mother used to tell me that when you fall in love, you'd know. I never understood how that worked. Was it something that tapped you on the shoulder, and suddenly you'd turn and realise you're in love?

Or was it something that slowly creeped its way towards you, it's figure coming closer and clearer with every step? Was I meant to see it coming before it came, or would it be completely unexpected?

It was all very unclear to me, and maybe it was in my nature to never leave anything unanswered, so I always kept the thought of love in the back of my mind. I just wanted to know.

I thought I came close once. I was eight years old.

I followed my sister, Andrea, to the pool, and I thought I was so cool because I was hanging out with her and her 11 year old friends. I barely knew how to swim, so I stayed in the kiddy pool most of the time, but one of them dared me to run one lap along the sides of the adult pool. Rejecting dares has never been in my nature. I was up for anything, even if it was dumb. And 8 year old me was dumb as hell.

So I did - I ran the lap, but when I reached the end, someone pushed me in.

Immediately, I started flailing. All I knew was how to doggy paddle, but in a moment of panic, I even forgot that. There's something invasive about the way water rushes in through your nose and mouth, and into your lungs. It felt a little bit like the intrusive and suffocating thoughts I sometimes get now. A physical manifestation.

I felt someone grab hold of me, and I could tell it was another kid because he wasn't very strong and he couldn't stand either. But I stopped moving around so much so we could get a proper hold of each other, and he waded me to the wall of the pool.

Looking back now, it really wasn't that big of a deal. If I really wanted to, I probably could have made my way to the wall myself, or someone else like my sister would have noticed within seconds and gotten me help.

"Thank you...for helping me," I mumbled, still coughing out water and hanging onto the side of the pool with a grip so tight my knuckles turned white.

"It's okay. I want to be a lifeguard," the boy gave me a wide grin. "I've been swimming for five years but I don't just want to be a swimmer, I want to save lives."

I quickly left after that, not getting his name or age. He must've been about 9 or 10, not much older than I was, and he was already rendered a hero. I was rendered clumsy.

So he walked away with a pat on his back, and people gushing about the young boy who saved the young girl, and I walked away with a newfound fear of bodies of water.