a true story about big feelings
One Hand on the Wall
The teacher just wants her to let go, and her tiny white knuckles only grip the wall harder.
the realization
I finally stopped cheering and got in the water with her. She didn't need me to prove the pool was safe. She needed me close enough that letting go didn't mean letting go of everything at once.
Swim class. Her knuckles were white on the edge of the pool. The teacher, kind as anything, just wanted her to push off the wall and float to her. Mia shook her head. Reached one hand back for me. Then grabbed the wall even tighter with the other.
have you ever felt this way too?
So I did what I always do. I cheered. Come on, big girl. There's nothing scary, you've got this. And I watched something happen that I hate watching. The more I clapped and encouraged, the smaller she got. Like every 'you can do it' was one more thing pressing on her chest.
So I stopped. I felt my own breath go quick, and I slowed it down. I got in. The water was cold and I was in my clothes and I honestly didn't care. I put myself right next to her, at the wall, and I felt my own hands wanting to hold on too.
This water is so deep, I said. So loud. Letting go of the wall is a big scary thing. She looked at me. She didn't let go. One hand stayed right where it was. The other one left the wall, found my finger, and held on.
what I found myself saying
"This water is so deep. And so loud. Letting go is a really big thing."
"You don't have to let go yet. I'm right here at the wall with you."
"Keep one hand on the wall. Give me the other one."
