I

I had forgotten that sound. I had intentionally forgotten that sound as I consciously refuse to let my memory replay my personal horrors. That sound is the precursor to a previous visit to the door between light and dark where I looked through the peep hole at nothingness and chose ... or was it by chance that at the last possible moment I did not venture further.

    As soon as I heard it, it triggered my memory. Away my mind raced and instantly I was reliving the fright. I was reliving the stark self awareness of primal fear. I was reliving that instant where courage crumbled and my personal survival was given over to happenstance. The humiliation shook my soul. Yet, there I was again, although, I knew that it wasn't the same, I knew that under these circumstances I would survive, I knew that if I just held on I would flush out, I knew that my roll was thousands of times better, I knew that ...

    The sound, the ethereal low frequency groan of a most powerful river, was there and although I knew it was coming, scraping across Volkswagen Rock, accentuated my already over stressed senses... Peeling back across the rear deck and feeling the turbulence resist my attempts to reset and looking up to see the Picasso clouds filtering though the whirlpooled eddy line slowly spinning and the roar of sound groaning ever deeper as it emerged from an astounding depth ... it all overcame me and without another thought, I pulled. I pulled to escape the sound, I pulled to remove my head from the inhospitable water, I pulled in resignation, I pulled in confession of my unworthiness, I pulled and faced the pity of my friends, I pulled and faced the pity of the educated crowd, I pulled and added a new chapter to the book of futility. Old school I am, swimmer I am, alive I am.