Day At The Beach

28 01 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

I never learned to swim. My father, an otherwise patient man, had no patience with me. I was terrified of water. My father had been taught to swim by his father. My grandfather had rowed a boat out into the middle of the Ottawa River and thrown my father overboard. That is how my dad learned to swim. My father would take me out into the water and he would support me in the water with his hand but inevitably he would remove his hand and I would sink. Swallow water. Vomit. See God and then be saved by my father. My mother would admonish my father for his cruelty. And I would be planted on the beach for the rest of the day. Bored to death. And burning. The sun tan lotion had washed off me. Looking back I wished that I could have learned to swim for my…

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