About
When I was nine, I almost drowned during open swim at summer camp. Needless to say, the experience was alarming. And not alarming; I toweled off and went to dinner with my friends as usual, as if the most eventful event of my life hadn’t just happened. For the next 26 years, I stayed in the shallow end of most pools. I knew the mechanics of every stroke but never dared to swim.
Now I’m 35, a wife, a mother, a writer. I’ve spent the last decade on an analyst’s couch speculating about the many reasons why I refuse to dive deep. One day recently, I woke up and realized that despite my best efforts, I’d drifted into a very big ocean. I realized that if I didn’t start swimming I’d drown.
So here I am. I’m diving in. I’m moving my arms and legs. What will happen next?
