by Dorothy Barnett
I don’t remember intentionally trying to drown myself. I only remember thinking it would be nice to stay under the water forever, that the enveloping silence where I could hear my heartbeat seemed welcoming and safe. The murky water, the caressing wetness, intrusive distant shouting and being pulled out by my hair, these sensual body memories I know to be true. We had lived on the eastern high cut bank of the
The
trailer park where we lived was filled to the brim with children released from
the confines of school. A splashing gang could always be found playing in the
shallows or on the sandbars dividing the length of the cold water from ankle deep to bottomless. No one seemed concerned that we stayed
down there without supervision, sometimes for hours. We knew to avoid the
darker swift water along the tree lined western bank where years before huge
machines dredged up ton after ton of gravel and sand for waiting barges. The
older stronger swimmers could wade out to the point where the water dropped
into green-black deepness, could wade out to become caught in the swift current
where they floated downstream; they did this over and over in a dangerous game
of chance oblivious to the swirling eddies that waited to pull small bodies
under. I stood in the shallow water fascinated with the younger kids and
watched their floating play many days.
I
didn’t really know how to swim. I could float on my back, move from one place
in the water to another by an awkward dog paddle, and tread water for a few
minutes. These awkward movements did not in any way hinder my love for water –
my body has always had a water memory, has always loved being buoyant and wet.
Later in life I became an avid swimmer and would swim lap after lap in the
local Y pool. I don’t really know what made me join the swimmers that day
though. Maybe it looked easy or maybe because I was never told I couldn’t do
something, I thought I could swim.
Upstream
away from the others, I stepped off the sandbar where clumps of small green
willow grew anchored by the river rounded gray rocks. The water caressed my
knees, thighs, small hips, and suddenly I was submerged. There was no time to
fill my lungs and hold my breath before going under; the water seemed
bottomless as I struggled to the top where I moved my arms back and forth and
kicked my legs to stay afloat for as long as I could. The water burned my nose
and had a stale mossy taste in my mouth. The current was swift, insistent, and
carried me downstream as I tried to stay on the surface.
I
could see along the distant bank the trailers lined up, could see movement in
the yards as people went about their far away lives. I remember thinking how
normal everything looked and how easy it would be to just let it all go. I kept
going under and resurfacing as I floated along; there was no control on my
part. When my arms and legs became tired, I let the water wash me down. I
remember thinking that no one would know if I didn’t come up. Kenneth and Laura
were taking their daily afternoon nap. No one on the bank really knew me enough
to miss me; no one had seen me wade into the river upstream.
I
tired and floated on my back where there was only a hazy beautiful blue sky
above and nothing else. I was half submerged and heard the water as it made a
wet whooshing sound in my ears. My heartbeat was there and my breath in and
out; I remember thinking about that and wondering what it would sound like if
my heart quit beating. Would there be just the sound of the water as it rushed
into my body; would I hear the sound if my heart wasn’t beating. I remember
relaxing and letting the water carry me under, not trying to tread or float; I
don’t know why. It seemed more like surrendering to the power in the water than
suicide. I was only eight; what did I know about surrendering or suicide; why
would I make that choice?
I woke last night coughing,
choking as if my heart had stopped, as if I had died. Something came up from
the depths to pull me in close to its breast like a soft fold of cloth. It
was like the time when I almost drowned in the gray graveled currents of the