Creative Writing Non-Fiction: The First Time I Went Swimming

The first time I swam was one of my most memorable experiences. I wouldn’t think of floating on top of water or diving into the deepest end. It was a scary moment swimming for the first time. I wore a nice fitting bathing suit and a pink rubber floaty that had tropical flowers and funny-looking dinosaurs attached to it. The first time I swam was the first time I felt like a professional swimmer.

Wearing my two-piece pink bathing suit and matching pink floaty, I slowly took off my flowery flip flops and gave it to my mother. Stepping onto the pool concrete, I tapped my foot onto the cool pool water and then dipped both of my feet limb by limb until my whole body was fully submerged into the water. The water was a little chilly but the hot sun beaming down helped to warm me up. I made little splashes and waded around in circles making donut wrinkles in the water. I did this while anxiously waiting for my instructor.

A fit older woman approached me with a friendly grin. “I guess it is my swimming instructor,” I thought. We moved into a little bit deeper end. Five feet to be exact. I was four feet and nine inches, so I definitely had to learn how to float on my own. Torture. My instructor first taught me how to breathe underwater by blowing bubbles through my nose. I thought, “Wouldn’t boogers escape through my nostrils and contaminate the water?” Answer, “I do not mind that at all.” I took a deep breath and dunked my head into the water, seeing bubbles reaching the surface like I was my own scuba diving air tank. My instructor smiled at my accomplishment. For the rest of my 1-hour lesson, I learned how to kick with two feet. My legs were pretty weak and gentle that I only made quiet splashes. I held onto the blue board and kicked, kicked, and kicked as hard as I could. My legs became a long propeller forcing me to glide forward to the deepest end: 8 feet deep. I held on to the rail bordering the entire pool; so that I didn’t have the urge to accidently drown myself. I climbed the steel ladder and walked carefully and quickly to the diving board. Even the gentleness of the cool breeze struck against my skin with frosty lightning bolts that a human is too blind to see. My instructor told me to step on the edge of the diving board. I felt like I was risking my life for a certain purpose: learning how to not make a cannon ball and splash all the water out of the pool, leaving me stuck at the bottom of the pool. I jumped as far forward as I could and landed safely without becoming a human meteorite. My instructor grinned at my second accomplishment. The first time I swam was the last time I learned my strokes and many diving skills in order to become a professional swimmer.