Drippy Whirlpool
I erupted through the surface of the water, gasping for air, “I can’t, I can’t do it.” I only made it halfway to the submerged mask before fear took control of my body.
My father enrolled me in a scuba certification program when I turned 15. I wasn’t a strong swimmer, but dad assured me, “you don’t have to know how to swim to scuba dive.”
He was mostly right, the gear makes you float, but to certify as a diver, I still had to pass a few tests. I kept afloat in the pool for the alotted amount of time, but when the instructor threw our masks in the deep end, I panicked.
I panicked all the way to my open water test in the Florida Keys. If couldn’t find my mask in a pool, how would I do it in the ocean? I was terrified that the instructor would let it go in a school of fish, the salty water would blind me, I’d never find it, and I’d fail.
I took my mask off, he motioned to put it back on, I cleared the water, and I passed. That was my first and last scuba trip.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
