By JANET HART LEONARD
From the Hart
“Remember the Titanic” was my first thought. My second thought was, “This might not end well.”
I had just set sail in my daughter’s pool on the only available pool-worthy craft on which to float. It was a large inner tube. I never thought about inner tubes coming in different sizes. I just knew I wanted to float, and this was my only choice.
I was all by myself. Emily was tucked upstairs in her loft home office. Aiden and Leah were in school. Drew was in Nashville, Tenn., on a business trip. Having flown home the day before, Chuck was on the golf course in Indiana. I just wanted to float and think about the next chapter of the fiction book I’m writing. I ponder well while floating.
I sat down inside the float. The water depth from where I was setting sail was a mere six inches. I was docked in the area where you can sit in a chair and read with your feet in the water. I quickly realized my short legs barely extended beyond the plastic tube. I was in more of a V position with my feet several inches out of the water, pointed to the sky. I had seen pictures of my friends floating down White River, all the while their legs hanging, gracefully, over the inner tube with their feet in the water, steering them in the way they wanted to go. The only thing in the water was my hind end (as my mother always called it) and it wasn’t steering anything.
As I pushed off the side of the pool, I had an immediate tinge of fear. I shrugged it off … but only for a few moments. The fear returned as I thought of everything that could go wrong.
I floated for a bit, edging closer to the deep end. My hands clung to the handles of the float. They couldn’t reach into the water either. As I edged towards the six-foot-deep area I realized I was uncomfortable and decided to “adjust” my position. My hands held onto the float for dear life as I attempted to wiggle my legs over the float a bit more, hopefully creating a more comfortable ride.
I could not get a good grip with my legs, so I shot my left leg into the air, literally … grasping for leverage in the air. I continued to attempt to shift my position as my leg flailed toward the sky. I was starting to sweat. I started imagining all kinds of things including the worst.
What if I slid into a position where I could not get out of this inner tube? What if I hit my head and slid under the tube and drowned? Okay, so I am being dramatic, but when you are stuck at sea or in a pool and cannot get out, your mind goes to all kinds of scenarios as you attempt to figure out how to steer an inner tube to safety without using your feet as rudders.
My feet could not reach the water unless I arched my back, thus pushing my stomach towards the sky. I looked more like a floundering humpback whale than a short, vintage grandma, floating merrily in the pool. My toes and feet paddled with all their might. I still could not control the direction of the tube, except I knew I was going backward, towards the shallow end.
It took a while, but I was finally in the area where my hind end was dragging the six-inch shallow area. I had survived my 30-minute tour. I wrangled the inner tube over my legs and head and tossed it, with every bit of energy I had left, into the corner of the lanai.
I could almost hear Celine Dion singing, “You’re here, there’s nothing to fear … my heart will go on.”
Please don’t tell Emily or Drew what happened, as they may not allow me in their pool unsupervised.
Actually, I have never watched Titanic. I don’t think I ever will. I just know the quote in the movie that says, “Promise me you’ll survive. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens.”
I could not have said it better to myself.
Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.