When I was a child my father saved me from drowning.
I remember the day so clearly. We had driven from our home in Simi Valley to my dad’s college friend’s house in Thousand Oaks. “Uncle Jack,” as we called him, had a house with a pool, an unimaginable luxury in my young mind. From time to time we would drive to Thousand Oaks and spend the afternoon swimming, then relax on Uncle Jack’s green shag carpet afterwards.
On this particular afternoon, my mom and the younger kids had gone into the house. My dad and Uncle Jack were sitting at a small patio table just a few feet away from the pool. I was playing by the pool steps. Not on the shallow side of the steps, but on the deeper side. I was holding onto the side, pulling myself up and down, in and out of the water. And then all of a sudden I didn’t have the side anymore, and couldn’t get it again. I don’t remember much of the next few seconds, just the feeling of relief when my dad pulled me out.
He told me one time that he was actually sitting with his back to the water that day, and that something had told him to check on me right then. I was not making a sound, he heard no splashing. He turned around and saw me under the water and grabbed me and saved me.
Thanks, Dad.
Water has been such an important part of my adult life. Playing in the ocean as often as possible, so many lazy afternoons at the pool, an occasional trip to a lake here and there. It is hard sometimes to reconcile the amount of danger that exists alongside so much fun.
One of my good friends posted recently about one of her children nearly drowning this summer at a lake. Today I read another incident of a woman’s son nearly drowning just feet away from her in a hotel pool. I read this article later and wanted to post it because the information it contains isn’t that well known, but could make a difference for you or someone you love.
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