So I LOVE Angela's blog. She always has something cool to say, and it is a cool way of keeping up with her. She introduced me to FreckledNest, by Leigh-Ann (LA). I love reading her posts, seeing her pictures, and hoping that someday I can try out her craft ideas. On it she started something called 4 Stories. She picks out a theme, and you are invited to write 4 stories on that subject! I decided this would be fun to do, something to break the monotony of being in Spain. I invite you to do it too!
I. Swimming Hole
Since my dad is a farmer, we spent the first 5 years of my life living on the farm that he grew up on, before we moved into town. I love the farm; it holds so many warm, fond memories of my father and my grandfather. Just thinking about the farm, I can smell the smells. Right as you come down the hill to the farmstead, there is this watering/swimming hole. My cousins, who at the time were troublemakers, tied a rope to the huge old tree right by the pond (Pictured above), and used it to swing and fall into the water. I always wanted to try, but didn't know how to swim. Sadly now, it is all dried up and the rope wore away by the cold harsh ND winters.
II. First Swimming Lesson
Mom and Dad took my younger sister and I to our first swim lesson when I must have been about 6. I hated it. All I remember is the FREEZING cold water and that the teacher didn't seem to be interested in teaching me. I tried my hardest, but the cold water made me freeze up (no pun intended) and I couldn't move. Finally, after the 3rd time, after both my parents tried being in the water with us, they decided it was too cold for us. And thus began my curse regarding swimming lessons. To this day, after about 8 different lessons (both by friends and by teachers) I still can't swim.
III. Hot Tub
When I was about 7, my dad joined my sister, grandparents, and I to visit his siblings in Nebraska. We were at my Uncle Dan's house, and they were all in the hot tub. I crawled in because, being a Daddy's girl, I always had to be around him. I tried to sit down like the adults, and slipped. Since I have always been pretty thin, I sank to the bottom right away. I remember seeing all these hairy legs. I wasn't too panicked at the moment; I was too interested in what this new experience was like. Suddenly, I felt myself being pulled up and a blast of air hit my face. I gasped and I think I started crying because I realized what had almost happened. Every time I get in the water now, my chest kinda contracts and I have to talk myself through it. It's just water. You will be okay. So-and-so is here and will save you if something happens. One of my fears still is drowning.
I think one of the reasons I haven't learned how to swim yet is the fear I have of wearing a swimsuit. I know its mandatory and important, but I just feel so... aware. I feel more aware of myself in a swimsuit than I do in anything else. Also, my ancestors come from Ukraine, which is one of the races that is known for women having mustaches and that sort of thing. I take care of myself well, but am still extremely self-conscious when I am faced with having to wear a swimsuit. I hope some day I am able to get past this; I would love to be able to swim with my own children.