There was that time I drowned. I’d taken swim lessons with the Girl Scouts, a few anyways. I’d missed more lessons than I’d taken because of life i guess. The swimming lessons I took I wasn’t very good at. I don’t love being wet. Maybe I was too small to enjoy the feel of floating. Maybe it was the whole stepping into nothing, the slipping and the sinking thing. Something abut the bite of chlorine rushing up my nose terrorized me. Under water, I floped and fliped out of control.

So naturally I was at a pool party. Because all kids love pool parties. Not. I remember hating my swimsuit, hating the thrumming bass of 80s R and B, hating the squeal screams of kids who always appeared happier than me. I was a short kid but the three foot section was way crowded. Loud legs and jostling legs barred the way to safety. I just wanted to be home with a book curled up tight. But I was a kid and kids had to go where they were taken and have fun or something was wrong with them. Back then kids didn’t have feelings. We were expected to fit in.

I climbed down the five foot ladder. I figured I must have learned something at least enough to stay afloat. Not.

I remember stepping off the metal pool ladder into water a foot above my head. I sank. Cold water pulled me down. Wildly, I thrashed but it must not have looked any different than the regular kids’ playing. I remember sinking again. I was panicking but in a defeated way. I stepped out of myself and thought, here is a pretty stupid way to die in a pool full of people having a good time. I remembered thinking that it was ironic as my toes grazed the bottom of the pool. It was quiet surrounded by bobbing legs. I wondered when I would be found. Time was syrup and my limbs loose. Water filled me.

Suddenly someone’s dad hauled me out the water. I remember how heavy my body felt. Someone’s mom scolded me for being out here drowning.

Coughing stormed over me till my ribcage rattled. It hurt to breathe air over water. I was placed on a lounge chair. I was told to rest myself and the party continued. That’s it. Was I wrapped in a towel? Where there lingering looks of concern from partygoers? Did someone make me a plate to compensate for near dying. I don’t remember. I was a kid and it was a very long time ago. I just have the memory of stepping into nothingness that bobs to the surface every once in a while.