Personal Narrative: Diving Through The Water

I also wrote about "Once More to the Lake", but I enjoy long descriptive sentences. When you read your chosen sentence, did it give you a feeling or, bring you back to a moment in your past? When I read that sentence, it brings me back to laying on the beach smelling the the salty air and listening to the

Once, when I was a little girl, my family and I decided to take a trip to some cabins in North Little Rock. While we were staying at the cabins, we had forgotten to bring our DVD player so we had to watch whatever channels the cabin t.v. had. (It didn’t have many). After a minute of flipping, we found the Olympics. At first, it was boring. Disc throws, pole vaulting, running, it was all boring. Then, the performances came on (Diving and Gymnastics). The diving was neat. All these professional divers were jumping off these 20 meters high diving boards, doing flips and spins in the air then they’d hit the water. It was amazing, but then, came the gymnastics. When they came on, I was wowed. All the spins, turns, twirls, and lands.

My head slowly angled down at the murky brown water reflecting the bright sun as It flowed downstream. “Come on you pussy”, I heard from below. From then on, and for these three words, my fate would be decided, On that day about four years ago, i would know what fear feels like, and how confidence can change your life.

Finally! I did it! I did something I never thought I would be able to do. I’m now able to do a flip turn for swimming. When I was younger, about third or fourth grade, I was in competitive swimming. At the beginning of each season, we would review basics, strokes, kicks, turns, and many other fundamentals. I was never able to do a flip turn against the wall. It wasn’t until I had gone off to the side with an instructor for a few days and worked at it until I got it.

On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade

The terrifying possibilities that come with facing one’s greatest fears are often enough to keep one from facing what truly horrifies them but also inspires and intrigues them. Fear can be the anxiety inducing emotion but it can also be the catalyst for one’s greatest achievements.  Many of us question whether the decisions and risks we take will result in a grounding breaking idea, or whether the path we’re on will further a future career. Instead of succumbing to fear, it paved the path to help me realize my metier.

So there I was, looking down at the murky green water. Next to me was my friend Josh. We looked at eachother for a bit, then decided to just go for it. Besides, I need some stories for my grandchildren someday right? We backed up to the other side of the massive rock, looked at eachother one more time, clicked on my Go Pro in my left hand, then, we took off in a dead sprint.

Drowning. Over and over and over again. Every time I died they would bring me back. Every time I came back I was less myself. I was terrified. Not for myself but for my country. Not for myself but for my family. Attacks on my soil day and night and my family could be next. They want what I have. My information. But I won’t crack. Under these bring lights day and night. A cloth is draped over my face again. Water gushes into my mouth as I struggle for breath filling my lungs choking the breath from my body. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. They don’t allow me to eat. They try to twist and break my body with poisons and malnourishment. They tell me no one is coming for me. Good. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.

It was sometime around 6:00 p.m. on a Thursday night in the middle of January 2016. There was a swim meet going on and it was just about to start. The teams were warming up and getting ready for the meet that was due to start in the coming hour. I was warmed up and concentrating on the race listening to music in my newly acquired platinum studio beats. The music was loud and the nerves were setting as I walked into the locker room with my friend and teammate. As we passed I said good luck to our teammate who I was racing against in the 200 free style. Then out of know were he pulled my friend to the side and whispered something in his ear. I didn’t hear what was said as I had continued to walk. My friend came over to me and I asked what he had said and he told me. He told me

There are only two options in the ocean: sink or swim. America operates the same way - either you make it or you don’t. 6 years ago my family was introduced to the foster care system and I met my sisters. We were warned how “troublesome” girls could be and their behaviors, medication why they were being placed into our home. It seems as if all their lives they received the short even of the stick but not when it came to living with us. We didn’t want them to drown in the system.

A slender woman with long platinum blonde hair that could be white stood in the long hallway of an old house as a figure dripping from head to toe with water entered, banging the door to announce his entrance.

When I first learned how to swim, I was 5 years old. My family and I were outside by the pool and I was on a float in the water. My brother and dad were in the water while my mom and sister were tanning on the deck. My mom got hot and started to get in the water. My dad came behind me and flipped me. I really didn't know how to swim so i was drowning. I was trying to push myself up when my mom grabbed me and picked me up. I went to go lay down by my mom when my dad picked me up again. My dad started to fake throw me in. My mom, brother, and sister all went inside. When they got insdie, my dad grabbed me and threw me in again. I thought I was gonna die but then I started to doggy pattel. My mom came outside and started to freak out. I told

13 years. It has been 13 years since I first plunged into the pool to begin my first lesson. I was small, skinny, and shy at the time, not willing to talk to people. I had tried other sports; baseball, soccer, basketball, but I found those to difficult. My dad first brought me to a pool, to splash around in the play area. But I soon found myself wanting to go the deeper parts where the whirlpool and the lazy river were. So I began group lessons on the basics on how to swim, most of the other participants were older than me so I did not make conversation with them. After I finished a couple of lessons and learned how to swim the most basic two strokes; freestyle and breaststroke, I joined a summer team, the Bradley Farm Wave. I was not very

When you wake up on a tile floor, it is normal to have a ache in your back. My plan for the day was to go, find, and collect water. I grabbed a spool of fishing line and tied the end to my door frame, and I put the spool in my backpack, so that when I walked I made trail of string to follow back home. With this safety measure in place, I went out in search of water. After only a few hours of exploring, I heard the trickling of water. I bee lined for the source of the noise. I had found a fresh water spring! I fell to my knees, and started drinking. As far as I was concerned, this was the best tasting water on God’s green Earth. I filled several jugs that I had brought from the store, and went on exploring.

A very patriotic, American yet basic thing to do is go to the lake with either friends or family yet, until this weekend I have never “properly” gone camping. First, I get in the silver, petite and fuel efficient car that will be taking me to Marion lake. The car smelled like peaches and honey not to mention the ebony, hot yet sticky leather seats. The drive there consisted of acapella singing, giggling yet loud shrieks and mischievous “what are the odds’” scenarios. Rap and hip-hop was the main playlist for the sticky sweaty drive there. Our music choice rapped about beer, drugs, women, gangs and of course money.