13/07/2026
I am afraid of many things. Some big, some small. But one thing I have never been afraid of is the water.
I respect the ocean, lakes, rivers, and any large body of water, don't get me wrong. I understand the dangers they hold. But I have always felt something else in the water too. Peace. Calm. Freedom. A kind of quiet that settles over me the moment I step into it.
These days I am lucky enough to live near one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, but my story with water began somewhere very different. It began in the bayous in the South.
The water there was nothing like crystal blue waves and postcard beaches. It was murky chocolate-colored water filled with alligators, snakes, nutria rats, catfish, gar, snapping turtles, and all the creatures that seem designed to frighten people. It was wild and unpredictable. And somehow, it became the place where I learned not to be afraid.
I learned to swim up and down the "cut" of that bayou with my grandmother. Every single day after work she would go swimming. She never missed it. She always brought along a ski belt, one of those small flotation devices people used to wear around their waist while skiing years ago. She would safety pin it to her swimsuit while she swam.
From the time I was a little girl, she brought me with her.
At first I wore a ski belt around my own waist. As I became more confident in the water, I wore it clipped to me less for support and more for safety. Together we swam, and sometimes we encountered the very creatures people fear most. I remember moments when a gator or snake would seem to be swimming directly toward me.
My grandmother never panicked.
With complete calm she would say, "They're more afraid of you than you are of them. Just splash a little water their way and they'll move."
And you know what? She was absolutely right.
Every single time they changed course.
Imagine that.
As a child, I thought she was teaching me how to swim. Looking back now, I realize she was teaching me something much bigger.
She was teaching me that fear does not always deserve the power we give it. She was teaching me that calm can change the direction of things. That panic pulls you under, but peace keeps you moving. She taught me to remember that I was entering their world and to do so with respect, not fear.
If I became worried, splash a little water and keep swimming.
Funny how life works. The smallest lessons often become the biggest ones.
Now when stress, fear, or worry begin swimming toward me, I think about those bayous and my grandmother's voice. I head toward the water no matter what color it is. I let it quiet my mind and steady my breathing. I remember that I belong there too.
As children, we often don't realize we are being handed the tools we will spend our lives using. Sometimes they arrive disguised as ordinary moments, summer afternoons, or the voice of someone we love.
And if you didn't learn those lessons as a child, maybe that's okay too. Water teaches patience. It never asks whether you are young or old before it holds you up.
It is never too late to learn how to float. Never too late to learn how to trust. Never too late to calm yourself, splash a little water at your fears, and keep swimming.
My grandmother taught me how to swim, but more importantly, she taught me how to move through life.
