Why is it everytime I tell someone "I can't swim", they push me into a pool? They think that if they pick me up, slam me in water, somehow my brain will click and say "Oh THIS is how to swim". I ask this question to the culprit of the night, a cowboy from Wyoming, while he is lazily swimming and I am attempting, and failing to float. He looks at me and says "I knew I could save you, and I thought it was worth the risk. Did you die?"
"No..."
"Did I give you enough time to plug your nose?"
"Yes...."
"Were you alright?"
"Yes?"
"Then why not? I took a chance. After all- you laughed and fought back! Besides now you are learning how to swim."
And as the people in the hottub laugh about some story, the moon reflects on the warm pool water, and I look at Court, swimming besides me in his blue jeans, humming some country song, I smile.
"I'm always going to swim" I say solemly. He laughs, then splashes me, thinking I am making some joke, because he doesn't realize the unintentional symbollism. But I do.
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