by Lillian Jensen

Created on: July 31, 2009

When I was six years old, I almost drowned. My mom had told me over and over, Don't go to the lake by yourself, or you will get a spanking. Obviously, I did not listen and did just that.

My two best friends, Derek and Shelley, lived in the trailer next to ours at the Lake Shore Trailer Park. They were gone that summer, except on weekends, to visit their father in St. Louis. That left me without much to do. Mom took me swimming just about every day, but on this particular day, she wasn't home. She was on a date with my would-be step-father.

I was insanely bored. The babysitter my mom hired, Dana, was asleep on the couch, and honestly, I didn't like her anyway. She never really paid much attention to me, mostly just talked on the phone the entire time. Mom would have been better off saving her money.

My toys were the same ones I had been playing with for years it felt like. I didn't want to play with Barbie, My Little Pony, or Teddy Ruxpin. I didn't want to watch cartoons, not even Tom and Jerry or Rainbow Brite, my favorites. I wanted to go swimming. The only problem was the lack of knowledge of how to swim, which turned out to be important.

I put on my swimsuit, brown with pink piping along the seams. It was Shelley's old swimsuit since my mom didn't have any money to buy me one. It didn't fit and had snags all over it, but I didn't care. With the swimsuit and pink jelly shoes that I had begged my dad to buy until he finally gave in, I walked down the steep gravel road that led to the dock. I can still remember the faint smell of fish and the sound of the waves as the boats zoomed along.

There was a rope that someone had tied to a tree, stretching all the way to the end of the dock. I kicked off my beloved jellies and stuck my toes in the cool water. The mud and tiny gravel rocks squished between my toes and I stepped further. I bent down and picked up the rope, using it as a guide into the water. The lake deepened quickly. By the time I was halfway between the shore and the end of the dock, the water was well over my head. I inched further into the lake, holding onto the rope. I was almost there!

When you're six years old and doing something you shouldn't be doing, every tiny sound startles you. As I neared the dock, I heard a tree limb snap. I was sure it was my mom, probably huffing and puffing down the road to come spank me. I let go of the rope. Immediately, I started to sink. A terrifying feeling crept over my entire body. I was in shock and not sure what was happening. As I mentioned before, I had absolutely no idea how to swim.

Finally, I started to flail my arms and legs. I tried to cry out for someone to come get me, but there was no one. The tree limb I heard snapping must have been a figment of my imagination. I sunk down into the water, it quickly filling my lungs. I felt my feet touch the muddy bottom and kicked off with all of my might. As I sprung up, I kicked my legs as hard as I could and continued to move my arms frantically. Much to my relief, I saw sunlight. I kicked harder. My lungs were burning, aching for me to breathe.

I reached up and grabbed the rope so hard it hurt, barely managing to pull my head out of the water. As my head emerged from the water, I coughed and gagged as I tried to breathe. Vomit poured out of my mouth and into the lake. I was alive and not much worse for the wear. It was that day that I learned a very valuable lesson that I will carry with me to my grave. You can't count on anyone to save you but yourself.

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