Drowned by Memories

J.M. Barrie once said, “God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December.” Our childhood memories, particularly, tend to follow us throughout our lives. Whether bad, or good, we cannot help but looking back at times. Every once in a while, memories will bring comfort in times of trouble. Childhood memories tend to be what shape us as we grow older. They make us who we are. Lydia Sigourney said, “In early childhood you may lay the foundation of poverty or riches, industry or idleness, good or evil.” I have several memories that would illustrate this point.
When I was about three years old, my parents signed me up for a parent-child swimming class at the YMCA. My dad gently held onto me in the water. He was careful to hold on tight; he knew that he held a precious life in his hands. All was going well until he accidentally slipped on the floor of the pool, causing him to drop me for only moment so he could gain his balance. Even though it was for such a short time that I remained underwater, and though I was only three years old at the time, I have remembered this childhood incident to this day. It has affected me in every way possible and led to a part of who I am today.
Ever since that “near death” experience, I have hated swimming. It took my parents a while to get me back in the pool again. Once they did, I was older, and still reluctant to swim. I hated holding my breath and going under water. I took a few lessons, but was the lowest in my class. I distinctly remember crying because I was afraid of just putting my face in the water. My swim class teacher picked me up and held me, face towards the water. I had to put my face in and out of the water and kick my feet at the same time as the instructor walked around the pool. I was afraid of being dropped; I was afraid of drowning.
Since then, I have learned to enjoy swimming at a slow pace. Water aerobics can be a good work out. I often go to the gym for that purpose. I also enjoy swimming on my back, backwards. However, I still will not go underwater without goggles on that cover my eyes and nose. I can swim underwater with those, but am still a terrible swimmer.
The childhood incident of almost drowning has followed me for my entire life. Now, I look back on it and laugh, as I do with many other memories. I often remember tough times I spent with my friends and how they shaped me. I went on vacation with my best friend once. It was the worst vacation ever! I was very selfish, and we did not get along at all. Since then, we have become good friends again and have learned to put up with each other. That fateful summer brings chuckles to me every time I think about it.
I cannot wait to pass these memories on to my own children. My parents have told me so many stories of their past. When I was younger, I would look forward to them as bedtime stories. Some day, I hope to bring this joy to my own children. Rosa Parks said, “Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.” My memories, even bad ones such as almost drowning when I was three years old, have followed me all my life. I have laughed about them, cried about them, and been indifferent about them. It is all the same. I cannot help but reflect on them at times. They have made me who I am. They brought me up. Anne Rice puts it well in saying, “No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.