A Watery Grave

Later I would see this place differently. Later I would thank God for giving me one more day to live. Later I would wish I had literally thought before I jumped. 

Light music, drifting over the wind, caresses my ears. Seamlessly blending into my surroundings and combining with the sounds of nature, the tune gently embraces me as I admire the view at the foot of the hill. Mud and dirt peter out into a green glass pond with a surface so still, it portrays a perfect reflection of seven yearold me curiously taking in my surroundings. Swaying trees cast dappled shadows on the water’s surface and I peer around me, observing every insignificant detail.

I feel like I’ve walked into a different dimension - one that is unconnected to the hustle and bustle of the world I live in. Insects flit through the air humming loudly and plants are coiling upward toward the bright sunshine.

The sudden laughter breaks the spell though and the cacophony of noise prompts me to squint into the sun - desperately trying to locate the source of the commotion. 

I glimpse fragments of older kids hopping from stone to stone carrying slender butterfly nets?

Their bravery astounds me; though the pond appears quite deep - they are still attempting such a foolhardy feat. Most shocking of all is that they appear to be succeeding! Springing lightly onto the large pebbles that peek out of the water like shy turtles, the teenagers are surefooted and agile. Having already gained mastery of this activity, they behave naturally, like it is a part of their daily routine. However, what strikes me most is how easy it looks: fluid and relaxed. Suddenly I want to know - I want to know what it would feel like to land lightly on stones splashed with water and covered in slippery moss, but never once losing my footing.

Ignoring the flitting images of bright clothing at the edges of my vision, I zero in on the rock closest to me: a chunk of gray spotted with algae and other growth. Aiming carefully, I bunch my muscles and jump...

...Into the pond! I miscalculated and I am nowhere near my destination. Nearly blacking out, I force my eyes open underwater. Drowning - I’m drowning! I realize, and with that pressure builds in my chest and I have the wild urge to scream. Panic and hysteria are shrouding my every thought. I’ve already swallowed a few mouthfuls of pond water and my oxygen supply is becoming depleted. Water rushes past me as I helplessly wave my limbs. My clothes have become heavy weights that are mercilessly dragging me down to my death. Craning my neck, I can barely see the surface of a pond I had thought was beautiful. Attempting to breathe in, I choke on water. Eyes half-closing with exhaustion, I gaze upward at the hazy morning light spiraling down into the depths of the pond; a sensation of disconnection fills me. The desperation fueling my struggles is gone and unconsciousness is claiming me. This is it. I won’t make it. I don’t deny myself the truth of my fate in this twisted reality of fish and seaweed.

Then a hand clamps around my wrist; somewhere in the darkness, I feel shock and a combination of frustration and annoyance. How ironic - just when I’ve finally resigned myself to my fate, someone finally decides to show up and rescue me! 

My ears popping as I’m dragged upward, I break through the surface gasping for air. The unexpected rush of oxygen is disorienting and I manage a weak protest when I’m roughly deposited on the ground. 

Blinking back tears and swiping away droplets of water clinging to my face and hair, I numbly stare at my ruined clothes. My amber shirt is now a limp sickly yellow and the white shorts I wore are completely smeared with dirt and shreds of greenery. 

Ripples branch out from the disturbance that my father created when he dragged me out and I take in my surroundings dazedly. My perception has been transformed and I view the location of my near-death experience through fresh eyes. This glade that had seemed picturesque then, now strikes me as sinister. Faint shadows of trees by the pond appear to be creeping hands waiting to drag me under - into a watery grave. The murmur of insects sound like solemn voices intoning an eerie chant. Gloomy clouds have temporarily obstructed the sunlight and I want to spring to my feet and make a mad dash out of a glade that had previously enchanted me.

Tears of relief slip out of my glassy eyes: I’m alive and my drenched clothes and leaden limbs don’t matter. I’m alive.