They told me I couldn’t become a swimmer. I was a runt of a kid. Everyday I had to fight their words. Dear friends told me I should must quit. Why? Because I could spend my time doing something, I was good at. I felt one with the current.
The glimmer on the water near the creek called to me. I wore my black swim trunks-my lucky ones I had thought at one time. You can blame my persistence on my grandfather. He told me about staying in water so still near weeds in his military training that he had to psyche himself out to be one with his surroundings.
“Here I come!” I yelled and cannonballed into the creek. I did a few laps until a stinging sensation covered my face and arms. I walked out and noticed my skin a shade redder. Sunburn. Ouch. Maybe, another time.
I walked inside, got some aloe and lathered it on myself. Cool. If I get that job as a delivery boy, I could save up for YMCA. Untill, then I’ll have to wait.
Days later, I got the call for the job! Awesome!