Thoughts on Swimming
An act that spans the generations
My son is learning to swim. I learned to swim.
Under the cover of night, my mother swam from China to a small Hong Kong island for a better life.
Three generations of swimmers.
Ever since my son started swimming, I’ve started going down the path of thinking about my own relationship to the water. I remember failing Maroon three times. I hated swimming. The first time I failed because I barfed into the pool 😝. And each time I failed, my mother signed me up for the next class the following week. I don’t recall a time when I did not have swimming lessons.
I was talking to a friend from the West Bank about swimming. He used to teach young people from Gaza to swim. When I told him about my mother, he said to me quietly that he understood. “You swim only as a last resort, when you have nothing else that you can do. You go into the dark water because you have no other choice.”
On Swimming
Turquoise laps on the sun bleached marble
Ms Nisa says kick kick kick
Splashing splashing splashing
Your delightful laugh
It’s so fun and I love you
Tung Ping Chau in the dark
Those striations can be so romantic
Over a mile away from shore
Was it murky
How exhausted you were at 18 years old
It’s terrifying, I love you
Hair and skin slushy cloudy water
My ponytail freezes in the Canadian winter
Walking to the car
Red Maroon Green Blue Grey White
I can save a life
Week after week
Out, back, in again
It’s so tedious, but I know you love meI’m hoping that we can go to China when my parents and my sister and niece come to visit. I miss my family so much.