After being forced abruptly into the pool against my will, my body and mind couldn’t keep pace with the unexpected and quickly unfolding peril. Experiencing the sensation a bullet might encounter being shot out of the barrel of a gun, the speed at which I was sinking was petrifying. The chlorine-fueled liquid invaded my lungs before instinct forced me to hold my breath as the frigid isolation of water surrounded me. As I crashed haphazardly to the floor in the deep end of nowhere, the moment became suspended in time. My only-child persona has never felt so scared and alone; ironic, since the concept of being alone doesn’t typically faze me. I was filled with dread, staring head-on at what I believed would be the end to my brief six-year-long life.

It started innocently enough. The adults at the house party proposed that the kids go play in the pool. Dad wasn’t aware I hadn’t learned how to swim properly yet, given all the time I’d spent down the shore with Grandma and Pop. It didn’t actually occur to me either—the pool had a shallow end, and I’d spent plenty of time in my cousin Christina’s inground pool, splashing around where my feet could touch the bottom.

The house where we were attending this particular summer party featured a sprawling backyard, and the massive death trap in question was situated all the way at the back of the property. Our newly formed tribe of half-pints made our way excitedly through the lush green grass, running barefoot with soft blades tickling our soft pink toes as the scent of freshly manicured lawn filled our tiny nostrils. No parents followed—hey, it was the ‘70s.

Once we reached the pool, one of the kids suggested a game. In some warped form of tag, this game involved someone being declared the monster, assigned the unpopular duty of chasing down other kids to get released from this most undesirable role. None of us considered running around the pool hazardous, and certainly our parents assumed we’d play inside the pool, not scurry along the edges like a pack of maniacs. The current monster, a boy much bigger and stronger than me, startled me from behind as I was running for cover. Making up his own rules to the game, he pushed me forcefully into the deep end. My newly pronounced title after being tagged the monster led to the dangerous situation I now found myself in.

As my mounting fear grew, something deep down in my core snapped open wide—I suddenly comprehended my motivation to live was stronger than my fear of drowning. Peering up toward safety, I felt an invisible, comforting presence forcibly pushing me from my bottom. Flailing yet determined, I launched myself toward the cloud-filled sky as quickly as my unproven swimming skills would take me. Up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up . . . I greeted the sudden burst of air with indescribable appreciation.

As I climbed shakily out of the pool, I just wanted to get back to my father to visibly see him in order to convince myself I was safe. I’m not sure I even told him what happened—I was in shock and had no words to describe my experience.

While this event did not prove to define me or succeed in ending my time prematurely, I learned three valuable lessons, which I’ve been reminded of throughout the course of my life thus far:

1) Wearing any type of mask, monster or otherwise, lands a person in deep water. It would take me 37 years to understand that living authentically is the key to happiness and fulfillment.

2) Acceptance of ourselves and others, including the monster, is critical to harmony on Earth. Being different is an invincible superpower, taking us higher than our wildest dreams can imagine. We need to tap into our uniqueness as well as the gifts of others to continue learning and evolving.

3) Whether innate or learned, with motivation, commitment, discipline, and unwavering faith, we can achieve absolutely anything, including the thing we initially believed to be impossible.

After I’d already long committed to writing this memoir and created the title, I discovered the instrumental “Chords of Life” by Joe Satriani. I’ve always considered Joe one of the best guitarists but wasn’t familiar with this arrangement—it was fateful to stumble upon it one day during a random Google search. It’s the perfect backdrop to my story, emphasizing stellar guitar playing, an erratically paced tempo, and the absence of words. My introvert persona would enjoy nothing more than to move you through this journey of nostalgia by feeling the power of the music and the ups and downs to which I hope you can all relate. You will come to discover I’ve always considered myself a poet, and I found an old one written years ago prognosticating the invitation I offer to you now. Are you ready to come with me? I’m pumped. Let’s go . . .

MEMORIES OF THE HEART

Save all good memories throughout life as you go

Treasure them dearly as you continue to grow

Cherish the moments without clinging to the past

Thankful good surpasses bad with the knowledge neither is meant to last

For each contains a shooting star created just for you

They console your aching heart when you’re feeling blue

While bittersweet to recall those involving loved ones no more

They help you hold tighter to those who endure

Travel back with me as I glide through time and space

The heart is designed to trap that which the mind has erased