The Swim

     As rights’ of passage go, it was unique. Even though we never called it that, my brother, sisters and I couldn’t have anticipated it more. We lived on the Fox River so swimming was a common pass time, but when Dad finally pointed and said “Let’s go” to one of us, then started to swim out across the Fox, we knew our time had come. 

      Without inner tube or life jacket we swam out past the longest piers where only the boats traveled and the bottom was unreachable.  It was a true test of our swimming stamina and as I soon discovered, our confidence, when I looked back and saw our shoreline from a new and distant perspective.

    

     The reward was not just the pride of reaching the other side but the treasure that would be found there.  Our home side of the river was deep and the bottom covered in rocks and sand.  The opposite shore was undeveloped and only reachable through thigh deep, leg sucking mud.  Finding our treasure there would be another test of courage and determination. 

     As half sinking, half walking; I searched alongside my father, I was thrilled when I finally felt something round and hard touch my foot.  I didn’t need instructions. I clamped it between both feet and virtually sitting in the mud pulled it up to meet my hands.  The perfect specimen, it was whole and heavy with life.  I hardly remember the swim back home, only the thrill of watching my Dad afterwards as he opened, cleaned and revealed the mother of pearl shell.  “That’s a nice one.” He said, and no words could have expressed his pride more.