Almost Drowning

Originally posted on FB on June 20, 2018

I was nine. The water was warm. The sky was clear....
Had it not been, I would be dead.
Treading water off the coast of Guatemala, I closed my eyes to focus on swimming. It made sense at the time, but then I opened them and fought panic as I couldn't see the shore. Then I turned and saw that it was behind me. How long had I been out here? I lost track of time over an hour ago. The last time I saw my family, they were sitting on the beach, motionless. Had they not heard my cries for help? Did they think I was already dead? I certainly didn't see anyone trying to rescue me. I couldn't even see the palm trees unless I was raised up by a swell.
Exhaustion was setting in. I was alone. This was the end.
I decided to take one last breath before sinking to my grave. My lungs filled with air and my eyes closed. I leaned back into my liquid death bed, and there I lay... floating.
To my surprise, the water barely came up to my cheeks, allowing me to rest from all the swimming. Eventually I leaned forward and continued scanning the horizon. Was that a man? It was two, no three. One was staying closer to shore but the other two were swimming toward me.
As my mother ran into the water toward me, I tried to stand but my legs were noodles. I let her pick me up and carry me back to dry land.
And that is the abbreviated story of the day I gave up. I surrendered to death and was spared. I think it changed me. I tend to experience life with a nonchalant sense of bemused apathy. It doesn't really matter what happens to me. I died.
Life is a gift. I don't know when my last day on earth will be, but I know the day that should have been.
I intend to live like I'm meant to be here.

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