When I was around 11 years old,
my family and I went to the 63rd Street beach in Chicago, located
just off of Lake Shore Drive. There were hundreds of people there, or so it seemed
to me. My mom and the other adults’ set-up our food in the grassy area reserved
for picnicking. My two older sisters, twin brothers and a neighborhood friend
elected to get into the water. It was my very first time swimming at the beach.
I had often ridden past it in my aunt’s car, but I had never ever had the
opportunity to go into the water.
From a distance the water
appeared to be as blue as the sky, however, once I was in the water, it
appeared grayer. Oh what a time I was anticipating. As I began to wade into the
water, with its coming higher and higher upon me, I began hyperventilating.
However, as I stood there, with the waves washing around me, my gitters and
anxiety began to fade away. Soon I was splashing around, just like the other
non-swimmers trying to have a good time, when suddenly it happened!
My sister was close by and I
could see my brothers ducking in and out of the water; they knew how to swim,
therefore, they had ventured further away from me. I had just gotten far enough
into the water, so that my feet barely touched the sand, my courage was rising
and my thoughts were to begin making stroking gestures like my brothers, when
suddenly I felt two hands latch onto my ankles, then suddenly I felt myself
being yanked beneath the water. It happened without warning; before I could
scream for help, before I could anchor myself to anyone. Down, down, down I
went, helplessly being carried away by a water monster!
I could see the little fish
swimming by and the legs and feet of other children and adults thrashing about
in the lake, but all of them were too far away to help me. I was gulping the
dirty beach water, as I was dragged further and further from the surface. Then
just as quickly as I was attacked, the hands released me and I fought my way to
the surface, coughing and spitting, crying and shaken, and gasping for fresh
air.
It was one of the most
life-changing experiences of my life. The playfulness of our friend and
neighbor, Daniel, had turned my world upside down. It gave me a new appreciation
for fresh air; it revealed to me unseen challenges and dangers, while putting
me on the alert regarding a world of information, of which others were aware,
but of which I was utterly clueless.
During this Covid-19 pandemic, I've learned the lesson of fresh air, all over again. Sucking air through a mask is not fun. Whenever, this is over, I'll not take fresh air for granted again.
