We were in heavy waves, and the body surfing was great. He was 10. I wanted him to know what it was like to get past the kiddy shallows. I wanted him to want to be strong by knowing his own strength, the strength of the world, and all that he had to grow into. So, we went far out to where the waves were their biggest, and there was a riptide, pulling at our feet. When a pair of waves would crash in, the surface of the water was moving toward the shore while the bottom layer was retreating into the sea. It is said, you dont fight it, and you drift out, but I had my son, and he wasn't a great swimmer. So, I held him next to me, and when waves crashed over us, held him under with me, then, lifted him above my head so he could breath. I couldn't touch the bottom with my feet, so I just held him above me. It was getting more difficult, and I couldn't get us any closer to the shore. I always believed myself to be invicible, as a former competitive swimmer. I thought I could never lose. But if I had let go of him, the sea would have taken him. Fortunately, a life guard came and took him, wrapped him in a buoy, and towed him in. I came in myself. We rested on the shore, and I tried to forget everything that could have happened. To this day, I still don't make a big deal about it, and downplay it.
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