Reservoir

Being submerged under water, being held at the neck like this, holding your breath and hanging on for dear life all the while knowing you’ll maybe die just not quite quickly enough, well, you pretty much forget and remember everything, your entire past, your present and your future, all at once.

In other words, it can be a bit stressful.

Yet, there’s a bit of a peace to this. Under water, like when you’re taking a bath and you go beneath the surface to rinse your face or your hair, all of the noise goes away. Or everything becomes muffled, at the very least. It’s quite serene. At the same time, everything that you can hear, your feet moving under water, your hand moving along some other part of your body, maybe moving through your hair, it’s all amplified. Something like ten million times. It’s almost deafening. Still, somehow, I feel peace under here.

And like in every movie, my life sort of flashes before my eyes. Quick enough, but not so much that I cannot make out every detail. There’s my third birthday party, for instance. I’m sitting at the table wearing this stupid pointy hat and I have a wand. Some dumb, attention-pilfering, appallingly ugly little freak of a boy takes it and throws it into the middle of the cake. I’m screaming. Crying. I assume its because I’ve lost my wand and I really, really must have it back in my hands immediately, but it’s tough to tell.

Then I’m eight and I’m outside in the tire swing in our gigantic backyard overlooking the forest. It’s beautiful. I can see myself deliriously happy, This was the day that I was very close to being the highest I've ever been before. There I am, going higher and higher and seeing the flames. They appear to be coming from the kitchen, at such an angle from the house that I can only see them when I get to a particular height. I have no idea what they are, and being eight I seem to think they're funny. That's it. Higher and higher now. Laughing at the flames as they too seem to go higher and higher. So high now that as I stop swinging I can see them begin to take over the roof. They appear to no longer be funny as I'm screaming. The same scream as when I lost the wand. Almost exactly. The memory speeds up, faster and faster. The whole thing lasting only a few seconds at most, but I know what this is.

The day that my mother died.

The day I realized God didn't exist.

And here I am now, only a year or two later, swinging again, but this time at a new house. This memory doesn't register immediately. I can't really tell where I am. It's a wooded area, again. But lightly covered with snow. I'm playing with a few other kids. Some sort of gigantic, seriously mean looking dude comes over. He's twice our size, at least. He obviously has some sort of score he desires to settle.

I begin to take in a little water through my nose. But I'm okay, for the time being. That is, other than the fact that I feel like I'm drowning.

I remember the bully well now. All of the sudden. He's the one that kicked the crap out of my friend Tommy. Right there on the swing. This memory used to be the one my dad just told me about. The one I probably blocked out of my then ten year old head. And here it is. Watching Tommy getting beaten up and I'm screaming again. My screams are heard and somebody's parents come running.

And it was just in time.

Here, my best friend Tommy is lying in a hospital bed. My dad always told me I might have saved his life. This is the time someone heard my screams.

The time I realized God just might exist.

Jumping very quickly now to my Freshman year of college. Here I am riding in the front seat of my friend's car. Spinning out of control in the rain. Here I am holding on to the handle they put above the door. Here I am not calm, but too old to scream.

We spin twice in the highway and leave the ground altogether when I blacked out. And when I wake up, I'm pinned in the vehicle, unable to move. I remove my seatbelt, fall to the hood of the car and realize that my head is caught. On something.

Someone hits my door, hard. Too hard for it to be a hand, I hear my friend screaming. He’s saying something about how it’s alright. He’s going to get me out. But he can’t.

I tell him that I’m okay because, really, somehow I am. It appears that nothing is wrong with either one of us. I’m just sitting on the roof of the car, watching it slowly fill up with water, asking him to please find someone who can get me out of the vehicle. Asking him to not take his time. Meanwhile, I’m making sure my phone still works. Why I didn’t just call the police myself I don’t really remember. It’s not too long before some guy comes over and tells me that he’s going to stay with me until the cops get there. It’s not long after that someone arrives with the Jaws of Life. All he says to me is, seriously, “this will be loud as hell.”

And they cut me out.

We were in the hospital for what seemed like days. They checked my vitals at least twenty times. Everyone wonders why neither of us was harmed.

Looking at the vehicle, we don’t know either.

It’s not too long after this that I begin to seriously wonder about that question. Pondering the fact that I’m still alive. Nothing’s wrong with me. I could have died but I didn’t.

And, maybe, just maybe there’s a reason for this.

A reason to believe that God does exist.

Fast forward to today. Today, drowning but still alive. Drowning, and knowing full-well that, not only does God exist, but He cares that I exist. Not that he needs me, but he wants me to be here. Now.

The end of life. The beginning of life.

That’s when I’m brought out of the water. Whether it’s an instant, a minute or more I haven't a clue. All I can hear, as soon as my ears break the surface and I open my mouth for air is the man holding me speaking. Saying, “amen.”

And a crowd cheering.

It’s then that I’m brought out of the reservoir, walked offstage and handed a towel.