A secret too old to keep.


Two weeks ago I admitted to my daughter, son-in-law, grandson and granddaughter something I’ve kept hidden since sixth grade.

I’m afraid to dive.

Water is my ally. Wherever I go, I hook up with a pool, just to experience the rush of a cold dip and the smell of chlorine in the morning. I insist on living within ten minutes of enough water to get into for a few laps.

There is a dark side – water loses its charm when I stand on a diving board.

Clear and baby blue, so inviting. Water like . . . glass. Would you dive into glass? How about depth? Not the depth of the pool – the depth of the dive. I jump off the board, not into the water, but back onto the concrete deck..

“Just bend over. Touch your nose to your knees.”

“Which knee? I have two. Only one nose.”

“You’re stalling. I”ll help you.” My six-year-old granddaughter, who is part fish, gently touches the small of my back. “Bend from here. You can do it.”

What example am I setting? Will she become less of the daredevil if I decline the challenge?

I bend over. My nose touches my left knee. I see the top of a pig’s head. I guess I have to pay more attention to how I shave my legs. Wait. Not a pig. Hairs stick up like the bristles that grace a baby elephant’s head.

“What are you doing, Gammy? Just go. Just go.It’s only water.”

I go, deep. My goggles fly off my head. My contact lenses are somewhere in the pool.

“We’re proud of you, Gammy.”

I am more proud of them. For patience. For not bullying.

My grandson climbs out of the pool and hands me my goggles.

“Do it again.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s