My First Time Swimming
by Chuck Armstrong
I still remember the fear. The rest of the memory isn't remembered from my point of view, as I was too young. Instead, the memory is of me watching myself swim for the first time on old home videos. The fear, however, I do remember. The fear hasn't stopped. It's stayed with me. I also remember the color blue. The second I hit the water all was blue. Kind of like when I jump in the water now, but I'm not as afraid these days, mostly because I know how to swim. The fear, however, of jumping into water while not knowing how to swim is a fear that I will never forget. A fear that I still have. The fear now, however, is not directed at me jumping into water, as I can do that with relative ease and assurance that I will not be eaten by Jaws. The fear I have kept with me my entire life from that experience is the same fear, just of different things. For example, if someone were to ask me to jump into a raging river in South America, the old fear of jumping into water while not knowing how to swim and being afraid Jaws would eat me would still be there, however, it would be a metaphor for me being afraid of jumping into a raging South American river that would be too difficult for me to swim in and perhaps being eaten by (my metaphoric "Jaws") some man-eating South American fish. To me, this is true fear.