drowning

Last Tuesday (the 5th), we planned to go to the beach. Just as we were about to leave, a dark cloud came out of nowhere and changed our plans. It wasn’t a major storm, not much rain at all really, it was certainly still hot enough to swim. But instead we decided to go the next day. We got to the beach around 10 and it was already blazing, but it was a beautiful day. I was glad the weather had made this decision for us. I spent a little too much time in the sun and had to make several trips to the water to swim and cool off. My last swim of the day brought an end to our “typical day at the beach.” The water felt so good, diving in and out of the waves with Scotty and Samuel, keeping a close eye on Silas and Sadie playing in the sand at the water’s edge. Suddenly I felt compelled to get out of the water and go sit with them in the tiny waves. I was only sitting for a few minutes when I heard a woman in the water screaming at her kids near the pier. It took just seconds to realize that this was not just an “irritated mom” scream. I sprinted through the shallow surf and stumbled into the deeper water going as fast as I could, falling twice. A child was drowning and there was no one else nearby. The other child with him was helpless. It seemed like it took a lifetime to reach him, I kept seeing him go under and his arms waving and not coming up. The mother was screaming and trying with all her might to get to him. You simply cannot run in water, you just can’t. I got to the boy and the sandy bottom just dropped off under my feet. I could barely reach standing on my tip toes. He was a very heavy boy of about 6, still I was able to get his head back above water. But I could not move - I could not get out of that drop off. I could only stand there and try to keep us both from drowning. Finally several women and the mother got near and I told them not to come closer, that I was also stuck and to make a chain to get us out. I was shaking so bad, my tongue had even gone numb (any explanations for that? I’d love to hear them). As we were being pulled out the boy was spitting up water, burping and gasping for air. I reassured him that he was okay and handed him over to the woman I assume was his mother. I don’t know what exactly happened in those last few minutes, it was all so fast. And suddenly she was hugging me and thanking me. I walked shakily back to the sand and dropped on the ground. Just then Scotty came out of the water to check on me, I assumed he had witnessed the whole thing but he hadn’t. He thought my blood sugar was low or something, and so I told him what had just happened. I saw the boy a little later rinsing off at the outdoor shower and asked him how he was doing - he looked at me like I was a crazy person. The mom (sitting with the rest of the family down under the dock) hollered up at him that I was the lady that saved him and to say thank you. I laughed then and the knot in my stomach finally loosened a little.

 

Had I not gotten out of the water just when I did, I would not have been sitting there being the only person who could have reached him in time. And I am convinced that had we not gone to the beach that day the little boy would have drowned. I am not new to believing that there are no coincidences. Still, I am forever surprised when they show up in such monumental ways. I felt like an angel that day. I saved a boy’s life. I felt blessed to have been able to be there at just the right time as if picked up and simply put there for that purpose alone. It’s an amazing rush even now just remembering, being the hero for one moment in time. But it is also an unbearable nightmare remembering the boy’s disappearing face and flailing arms. It flashes before me unbidden at the most unexpected times, I replay it all in my head, and I want to cry. I cry for that mother, and how it must have felt to see her child drowning and not be able to get to him in time like so many bad dreams of not running fast enough from the boogeyman. My chest fills with mud, I am feeling my legs drag through that relentless water. I see my own child’s face going under that very same water that I am stumbling through - this water that both connects and separates us. It is torture to imagine, so I push it away. I am forever imagining the worst possible scenarios. Seeing my children harmed in so many hideous fashions. These thoughts terrify and haunt me. I wonder when, if ever, a mother stops worrying about the safety of her children. At what age are they immune from danger? I guess probably never. I hope that I never have to feel what that mother felt that day, but if I do I hope that there is some sort of karmic balance that will send the right person at the right time if needed.

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