My earliest memory is one of ignorant euphoria. I believe I am the only one involved who still remembers this experience, however, vivid it may be, though, I have never shared it with anyone. It may be it was too small an ordeal to permanently impact anyone’s memory but mine. It stuck nonetheless.
From what I recall I was too young to speak, but old enough to walk, meaning I could have been anywhere between the ages of one and four. My family and I were visiting a large pool with a slide and diving board, which was unusual given my mothers unwavering hate and fear of water, heights and sun-heated metal slides. As a result of my nervous mothers worrisome demands I had spent a very limited amount of time actually playing in the water. Still, I somehow managed to escape for a spell and explore on my own. I remember unsteadily walking along side the pool dangerously close to the warm and chlorinated waters edge. I watched the young people race down the slide and disappear into the crystal blue water with a large splash and cut-short scream only to magically reappear. After gasping for air and wiping the water from their eyes they would smile, splash and swim to the edge to do it again. I don’t know if I jumped into the water thinking I would simply pop back up and friendly splash my neighbor like everyone else or if I fell into the water as a result of the wet and slippery pavement. Regardless, I wound up in the pool and began the short and painless road to death by drowning. I was in a whole other world. It was nothing I had ever experienced before. The once deafening sound of children screaming and people splashing had become a droning roar in my ears. The water was remarkably clear. The suns rays danced beautifully on the floor and on my skin. It was wonderfully beautiful, painless and incredibly new. I never wanted it to end and at the time it felt it never would. Everything around me began getting soft. The roar was no longer, the water darker and the dancing rays were still. The oxygen was leaving my brain. From the corner of my eye I saw thousands of bubbles forming from which a familiar figure emerged. It was my father. His legs were spread wide and kicking like a frog while his arms gracefully moved from beyond his head to his side. With a minimal amount of strokes he was by my side. He snatched me up in his warm and loving arms and effortlessly carried me out of the pool. After a good look-over he handed me off to my mother and walked away as though nothing had happened. I thought he had either lost his mind or never entered the nirvana-like state I had, nevertheless the previous events meant nothing to him. I never felt close to death, but somehow understood my father carrying me from the pool meant more than I knew and for that I am eternally grateful, for if it weren’t for his watchful eye I would have surely drown. I saw my dad in an all-new light that day. He was my hero and I felt an attachment to him I had never felt before.
I have looked back on this experience many times since it occurred. I think it happened, although I can never be too sure. I have never looked at my dad the same way. He will always be in my mind a half human half frog. I mean a hero. He will always be my hero.
