I know this first hand.
You see, I almost drowned.
Three times, really.
The first time I was just seven. I was taking swim lessons at the local pool. My mother was wrangling my toddler brother and hadn't realized the lesson had ended. I thought I was strong enough to swim in the deep end by myself.
Wrong.
A woman and her teen daughter saw me sputtering water. They came to my rescue.
They were my angels.
The second near-fatal drowning was when I was twelve. We were visiting relatives who took us swimming at New York's Jones Beach. I swam out too far. Worse yet, the tide pulled me even farther. I tried to dog paddle back, but I was too tired to fight it, so I just gave up.
I floated on my back, resigned to my fate.
But then the tide turned and dragged my back toward the shore.
Again, an angel. But this time, not mortal.
The last time was when I was sixteen. I'd convinced my boyfriend to let me drive his brand-new Impala. The road was slick, and when I hit the brakes, we fishtailed into a roadside fishing pond. I was stupid enough to believe it would float. Again: so wrong. And because the electric car windows were up and the car's front end dipped quickly below the surface, my boyfriend—not at all dumbfounded like me, was smart enough to kick open the back door and drag me out with him.
A week later, he broke up with me.
I can't say I blame him. He'd worked all summer for that car.
I'd heard he became a firefighter.
So, yes, he's an angel too.
I'd like to think that this isn't really about drowning but about angels. That being said, I’d much rather meet my angels on dry ground.
For all you angels reading this, thanks for touching me there too.
Have you been touched by an angel, human or otherwise?
If so, write me. I'm all ears.
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