All the Colourful Umbrellas

I remember a summer of many years ago when I was barely old enough that the world seemed so vast. I was on an inflatable mattress in the water. The sun was hitting me hard on the back, but children don’t mind these things. I remember it as if it were important.

I was engrossed, leaning slightly off the mattress to look at the azure of the water, through it, at the rocks and the weird plants in it. The sand underneath seemed so far away that I felt both excitement and fear. My arm splashed in the water, which was fresh and cold in the sun.

My dad and my uncle were swimming about me talking about things I don’t remember or I wasn’t paying attention to. I plunged my face in the water for some reason and I ended up falling in the water. I remember a moment of blindness, then the bottom of the sea coming closer, then blindness again.

And then I see the sky and the sun blinding me and my dad is holding me, asking me if I am okay, laughing to reassure me, while I cough and whine. I have drunk water, I say. And I spit as if I am dying. My dad laughs and says, so what? You’ve just drunk some water. Is it salty? He laughs and I know I will be okay.

I don’t know why I have remembered that episode now while I am here in the sea away from everyone, looking at beach in the distance. Maybe it’s because I was staring at the bottom of the sea through my goggles even though I cannot really see anything without my glasses. Everything looks so confused. My dad is not here anymore. No one would come and save me and laugh because I have drunk some water. I am alone in the sea.

It’s the beginning of the summer and it’s so hot that I needed to be fully immersed. It has been years since the last time I have come here in this water, in my own country. What remains of my family is on the beach. I am savouring the sea, I am home, I tell myself, as if the sea were my home.

I am not used to swim anymore, and a light wind is starting to create some waves, so I decide to swim back. I rush, I don’t know why, a subtle panic slowly settling in my heart for some reason. I rush and I feel my leg pull and I stop. I look at the sky and breathe, because I know that my leg hurts and it won’t take me to shore. I think it’s really hot today.

My heart is pumping like a busy shift at work where everyone wants a piece of me and I have very little of me left. Now I need to drag a piece of me back ashore. I swim slowly, looking at the colourful umbrella on the beach, trying not to think about the possibility that my arms, out of shape, will get tired soon.

The world through my goggles seems unreal, head down now, in freestyle, I look at the sea, at its rocks and the weird plants in it and it’s not real, it’s as distant as a memory. The rocks and the weird plants live far away from me, and I am swimming on a TV screen and watching, just an observer with the sun on his back and fresh water sliding under his belly.

I am convincing myself that my smooth freestyle is cutting through the water, but I am dragging my leg and I am getting tired. I am struggling with my breath too. This used to be easy. Right, left, right, breathe. And repeat. But now my lungs say I am not giving them enough, but my mouth cannot breathe any larger, and I am losing my rhythm. I stop, because I need to breathe and think and not panic. No one is coming to get me out of the water this time around. No one is going to laugh. I feel strangely lonely.

I decide for an unrefined frog style, in the style of someone who doesn’t really know how to swim: head out of the water, flapping about. I take my time. I stop at times. And then I move my arms and my good leg. I feel like a tourist in the water, even though my muscles disagree. I hadn’t realized how far I have gone. The people are still so small and having fun.

I know there is the noise of the people there on the beach, but sound feels more like an idea. In reality, it feels strangely quiet, only the uncouth sound of my breathing in the silence. I may be getting light-headed. My arms are getting heavy instead, as if I were caught up in those weird plants, and they were pulling me down. But it’s only a feeling; I know that there is nothing pulling me down. Only my head. And I am tired. I know I will make it somehow, I am not really afraid. But it hurts.

And I still have this strange feeling of loneliness. As if someone should have really noticed me here, someone should be here to notice me and pick me up and tell me that it’s just water. I cough. I don’t know whether I have really drunk. I cough and I stop and I look around and I wonder why there is no one to take me in his arms, why am I so lonely here in the middle of the sea, between the sun and the water.

Suddenly I am surrounded by people and I can touch and wobble on my feet towards the colourful umbrellas. I feel like I have passed out for a few seconds because now I have all of these strangers in colourful swimwear around me. I reach the hot sand and I feel the sun everywhere. I stop, breathing heavily. I am going to walk to what is left of my family in just a second. I won’t say a thing. Because I feel silly, or maybe I feel ashamed at feeling so lonely sometimes.