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The Complete Life Of Hunter Rayne Uriarte
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Monday, June 16, 2008

Caution - High Tide

There was once a period of time when I did not much like to swim, a time as far back as even two days ago, for instance. I grew up with a dad who was attracted to bodies of water like Norm to Cheers. Because of his affinity for most things maritime we often vacationed in places like Mexico and frequented the Post-Card Pretty like Santa Barbara or Tahoe. Still, while I always appreciated the water, I never really liked to swim so it is weird that I have enjoyed the pool so much lately.

Many of my early memories of swimming involved narrow defeats of death, like the time I was at the local pool across the street from my uncle's house with a pool and I went to take a nice refreshing sip of Coke and got lanced by a bee which had wandered under the lid only to sting me in the lip when trying to flee. My brother must be reading this because I can still hear his stinging laughter.

And then there was the time the family went rafting with friends and the kids were told not get out of the boat because there was a "bottomless pit" underneath. So there I was, singeing to side of the metal boat, searing in the 100 degree heat but refusing to get out of the boat even as everyone else swam around. (On a related note, this reminds me of the time my sister-in-law skinned her chin and knees clanking off the side of the boat when Maggie fell in the "water", but I won't tell that again.)

And of course, there was the time when I was much older and went to visit El Salvador after my grandma died and got in a fight with a rock and rip-tide, and almost got tapped out. That is not a story to retell now, because it would take way too long... but let's just say I was warned before I went into the water and almost never came out. It was one of those moments everyone must go through to prove their mortality, I guess. I mean everyone stands on a shore in an unfamiliar country, with family they have only met moments before, spends exactly two seconds pondering the current only to jump in immediately after being warned of the legendary danger brought by that break, right? Gabriel Garcia Marquez could not have written a more sublime, ridiculous moment. But he would just say I was stupid.

But none of these moments are the exact reason why I don't like swimming. Really, I can't say what is. Maybe it was the mandatory swim class we all had to take in high school where the girls were allowed to wear whatever suits they wanted. I mean, who could learn to swim in those circumstances? During high school I also spent a ton of time skipping class at the beach, and spent plenty of time boogie boarding or trying to surf. I love the sun and the beach and the inherent life-style. I guess I just never got the call the way Rayne Droplet did, say, when she steps up deck-side on a lake somewhere and enjoys a morning B - (She told me not say that is slang for "Bud Lite" for fear it would give the wrong impression. I said it makes her cooler. And besides she tried to make me swim in jelly-fish infested water in Mexico!).

I guess this is why I have never done any triathlons. Shawn and Heather's recent dolphin acts seemed to only reinforce how much I like to stay on shore, unless I need to cool off. Certainly, the competitor in me wanted to join them in their recent tri's but the preceding open swim in the local slew slushing through flotsam, jetsam and detritus confirmed what I already did not want to do. (Though Shawn's wrong turn was certainly inspirational in the "funny" way.)

Anyway, recently my enjoyment has changed due to how much Hunter really seems to love the pool. He is fearless, I guess, because he has been pushing physical limits since before he was born, and the pool is perhaps a new vehicle for him to drive to the limits. He has ridden every bouncy chair, crawled up every stair and tried to climb every dresser and book shelf in the house, so maybe he just wanted something new to explore. There is a certain freedom and exhilaration involved in playing in a pool when you are kid, for sure. But this is more than that, I think he loves discovering. The joy and outright giddiness in his laughter while in the pool has been matched only by his magic sleigh ride in the snow. And there is a certain amount of danger involved in each, which should be concerning but instead is a familiar feeling.

Watching him reach out and jump off the side of the pool, or stand on the second step, or do a pull-up over the edge, or kick his legs and splash around joyfully and without any regard for his youth is so wonderful I can almost ignore the Dork Hat his mom makes him wear. She is right, his almost translucent white skin needs to be protected from the sun, but still. At least from under that hat emerges a boundless joy. The smile on his face as he carelessly splashes around or lowers his face into the water is surreal.

It's the look that at once says What's That and Let Me Have That with raised eye-brows and is often accompanied by an O-shaped mouth and curious noise. He does this when he sees things he cannot have like the dog dish, his mom's computer, all the electrical cords, kitchen knives or whatever else he can get his little fingers on. You place him away, at a nearby table say and he gives a grin and a little slap on the table while he searches for something new with which to play.

So I wonder if he will grow into loving swimming, or ever learn boundaries, or fear fearful things and then I wonder if I want him to learn those things, or at least, when. The newness seen in his face as he crooks his head slightly and gets wide-eyed when looking at something he does not recognize, I hope never goes away.



And maybe someday, on vacation, he will swim like a dolphin with not a care in the world, heeding all warnings, except those to maybe to stop exploring.