by Tisha Gramann

Created on: April 15, 2008   Last Updated: April 16, 2008

Death by Water Skiing

After a long summer of hearing all the glories of my cousins water skiing talents, I figured it was about time to show my family that the same blessed blood ran in my veins as well.

"To think," sighed my grandmother, (for the seventh time that day), Stacy is only six years old and she's already skiing on one ski! And how old are you again my dear?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm six," I answered, barely audible.

"Well, you know that we would never pressure you into anything," she continued, "but your grandfather has those old skis of his and the boat is ready if you ever wanted to try it."

My dad, catching the last part of the conversation jumped in excitedly; "Do you want to ski, honey? I really think you'd like it. Maybe even your uncle and cousins could come and help you out. You know, your cousins have been skiing for a year now." My family sat there expectantly looking at me.

"I guess I'll try it," I hesitantly said.

"Great," boomed my grandfather, "I'll get those skis ready right now."

"And I'll get the camera," my grandmother chimed in.

Quickly I ran over to my father, "Daddy I didn't mean right now," I urgently whispered.

"Honey, now is a perfect time. Besides, the longer you wait the harder it will be to go through with it."

Things were happening much to quickly. Did it really matter that my cousins were so much better than I? What if I couldn't get up and made a fool of myself? And then on the other hand, what if I did get up and then killed myself? I desperately tried to think of a way out. But it was too late, my grandfather had already gotten everything ready. He would be eternally angry with me if I didn't go through with it now.

I walked slowly down to the dock. My mother came up to me and gave me a hug. "Just listen to your dad and everything will be fine. I am very proud of you."

"But mom," I whimpered, "I don't want to ski anymore. Please tell them that."

"Sorry kiddo," she replied, "Your grandfather has everything ready. You're going to have to at least try it."

There was no one I could turn to. This was awful. I was knowingly walking, well no, skiing into my own death trap!

My dad had me sit down on the edge of the dock while he put the skis on my feet. The skis were as tall as me and twice as heavy. I could barely even lift my leg. I wondered, horrified, how I would ever be able to stay on top of the water.

My father, meanwhile, was diligently explaining everything about skiing and then some. I tried to listen but my heart was pounding too

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