the memory is clear.
legs shaking so hard the diving board squeaked, water so deep i couldn’t fathom being able to swim up and away from its bottom, apathetic swim teacher waiting below.
i stood there for a long while, my mom on the sidelines eyes hidden behind a paperback. tick, tock. tick, tock. waiting and hoping the lesson would end.
no such luck. peripheral swim teacher rushes the board, hoists me up and drops me. JUST. LIKE. THAT. splash, flail, panic and sputter back to the top.
feeling the same now. no diving board this time. instead a blinking cursor and a mind filled with colliding words and ideas.
a few years ago, i dragged my very uncoordinated self through a triathlon to show my kids that even the the ones picked last in gym can be champs. and now i'm here - too shy to say "writer", but brave enough to write.
this first post is dedicated to k at the kids are alright with thanks for rushing the diving board
and pushing me off.