Childhood is a growing experience for both child and parents. The goal of a parent is to 1. raise a child into adulthood and 2. make that child into a functioning adult (My dad once told me, much to my disgust at the time, that his job as a parent was not to give me everything I want, but to make me able to function properly as an adult). I did not always make the #1 parental goal easy for my parents. I once ran away when I was four years old (in my wonder woman underwear only) and was found in a nearby trailer park where the police came and got me. A few times, I even challenged the whole living thing. I was thinking back in my childhood about the times that I was in danger, whether or not I knew it at the time. I’ve been in some circumstances that could have ended disastrously, but *spoiler alert* I survived them all. I’m still not sure if these experiences made me who I am today (ready to dive into a challenge even [especially] if dangerous) or if who I am got me into these experiences. As I thought of the different scenarios, they all seemed to include one odd, but common denominator – my dad in water.
The first event, I’m not sure how old I was, possible 5-8, but we were at The Wakulla hotel in Coco Beach, FL for our annual family (dad’s side) reunion. I, as the youngest child of three, was anxious to keep up with my older siblings and cousins. We were at the hotel pool with everyone else and I was tired of having to stay in the shallow end. I went up to my dad, sitting on a chair poolside and told him I was ready to jump in the deep end and that I could swim now. He said “are you sure?”. I looked at him confidently, held up my swimmer’s goggles as proof, gave a quick “yep!” and took off. I placed my goggles on my face and eagerly jumped into the deep end. And promptly sank/struggled/sputtered. My dad jumped right in and rescued me -surprised, I’m sure as much as I was that the goggles did not save my life.
The next incident also involved water, but occurred at the other place my family (mom’s side) took annual vacations – Pawley’s Island, SC. I absolutely love this place. We are no longer able to use that house after my grandmother died since we no longer “had a tie to the family” as my grandmother was adopted, but my most beloved memories of this place are my absolute favorite. It’s a small island off the coast of South Carolina with only privately owned beach houses that are rented out to the public. Most of the houses are large enough to accommodate a few families and are directly on the beach and come with your own private area on the beach. The beach was never crowded and there was plenty of room to run, play, fish, and crab. The ocean had fantastic waves for swimming, body surfing (where you dive just as the wave is breaking and have the wave carry you all the way to shore), and riding the waves on a raft. On this particular occasion, I was probably in the 8-9 year-old range, I had gotten onto one of the rafts and was going to ride some waves. I got out to just where the waves were crashing – ideal for catching one – but then just floated.
I don’t remember why, but I just lost track of time or was thinking the deep thoughts that you think as an 8 yo, but, after awhile, I looked up and saw that my family, on the beach was REALLY far away. I could barely make out who anybody was. I had drifted out to sea! Luckily, at that point in my life, I hadn’t developed the fear I now have of sharks and was pretty calm about it, but I did notice my dad and another guy notice how far out I was and jump up and start waving at me. There wasn’t much I could do at that point. I tried to paddle and kick, but the ocean is much stronger than a child. My dad and the guy started running for the ocean, jumped in and started swimming for me. They finally got to where I was and started to pull me back in. The guy who was with my dad tried to dive down to see how deep we were, but could not swim deep enough to find the ocean floor. Needless to say, I was “grounded” for awhile after that.
The last story is my favorite. It’s not my mom’s favorite and I totally understand why, but it is the best story to bring up suddenly to people who haven’t heard it and watch their reactions. So, it was November 1st of my second grade year in school. I had spent the night over at a friend’s house for a slumber party and per standard procedure, we had stayed up all night in fear of being the first one to fall asleep and all the shame that would surely ensue. Needless to say, I was not well rested for the day ahead of me. My mom was as work and I was home, playing outside with the dogs. Growing up, our dogs (one black lab named Addie and one miniature schnauzer named Bo) were outside only dogs and roamed free. They had an old, large comforter that we had thrown to them to sleep on in the colder months in the garage, but they often dragged it out into the yard and on the driveway. That day, I had decided that I was going to surprise my mother when she got home by jumping out from under the blanket as she drove up the driveway. I imagined just how happy she would be to see me.
I curled up in that old, dirty, likely flea-ridden blanket that had so often embellished the driveway in the warm sun light on a mild fall day in Southern Georgia and waited. And then, I fell asleep. The next thing I remember is it being very dark and feeling a ton of pressure on my body. Then, there was light, but I couldn’t breathe. I threw the blanket off of me and saw that my mom had arrived home and had, in fact run over my body with the car. She got out of the car and didn’t even see me there. I tried to say something, but couldn’t catch my breath. I ran to the side of the house to try and regroup. Still unable to breathe, I heard my mother say “I see you, Emily!” before she went inside. She had no idea what had just transpired. She and my dad had likely driven over that stupid dog blanket numerous times without one of their children being wrapped up in it. Still unable to breathe and in a pure panic mode, I was doubled over on the grass when my good and faithful lab, Addie came over to… assert her dominance. She jumped on my back and started humping me.
I finally drew a breath, crawled out from under my dog and ran inside the house. My breath came more easily now and had turned into violent sobbing. My body hurt. I ran to find my mother in her room, changing. She looked at me and her face went as pale as mine likely was. “What happened!?!” she asked. Between ragged sobs, I managed to tell her “You ran over me!!!” then, I turned around to show her my back – numerous cuts and scrapes ran along the length of my back. My mother was shocked, she was tired, I’m sure she had just gotten home from an overnight shift as a nurse in NICU and now she had just run over her youngest child with a car.
I had to go to the hospital after that. I was so tired from not sleeping, I was falling asleep in the car. My mother thought I was dying. As a mother myself, now, I cannot even fathom how she was able to drive to the hospital in that state. She kept prodding me and yelling “Don’t leave me, Emily!!” When we got to the hospital she had to tell the staff that she had run over me. No one questioned her, likely due to the look of panic on her face. They rushed me back and started diagnostics. In the end, I ended up with just a broken rib and a lung contusion. The tires of the car had straddled me, but the small car was low enough to have caught my body and rolled it before leaving it. I stayed in the hospital one night and was discharged the next day.
Some of you may be wondering where my water logged father was in that last story. I was crying, having just told my mother that she had run over me, my mother was trying to put things together in her head and slow the panic in her soul when my father appeared, soaking wet, as he had jumped from the shower when he heard the news, completely naked. One day, I will recover.
Happy birthday, dad!
