I may as well come out with it because it’s there. And if you look at me long enough, you’re bound to see a trait I first noticed when I was four or five and understood at thirteen. I didn’t think about it much at the time, but it resurfaces now and again to buoy a notion that my father was a swan, and I am a duck.
*
Daddy tried to teach me to swim with his grace, his long, easy strokes. Facedown in water, his head turned slowly from side to side to inhale and then exhale. And all with his legs stretched straight, his toes pointed to kick and splash like an Olympian. But I couldn’t move my arms, legs, and head in sequence. Instead, I became an underwater swimmer, breath held, arms flung to the side, with legs pumping hard in the pools or oceans or lakes he took me to flap around in.
*
When I was thirteen, we traveled to Hawaii for the summer. Again, he worked on my strokes. But I preferred to dive into the skyscraper waves and always seemed to miss the perfect moment when the swelling water crested to bodysurf alongside my father. Instead, the monsters usually broke on my head, and I would roil and furl until my bottom hit the Pacific Ocean’s floor with a thud.
The closest I’ve ever come to drowning was that summer on Waikiki Beach when a massive wave pressed me underwater until my lungs felt they would burst. But the tsunami hit a sandbank and returned with such force, I popped high in the air as I gasped for breath. Daddy couldn’t stop laughing, and I was so mad at him I marched (not gracefully) back to shore and pouted on the highest dune to watch my short life pass before my salt-stung eyes.
*
On a recent trip to Ireland, I watched the swans in Dublin’s Grand Canal and on lakes in St. Stephen’s Green, their long S-shaped necks and skating ballet reflected below them. Families glided in perfect Vs. Now and then I’d see a baby nose down and circle off course. That swan would be my father. He was the one always leaving the bevy—the non-conformer, the risk taker, the happy traveler.
Perhaps that’s why he was so patient with my inelegant stokes. For under the surface, he too was a duck like me. I wonder what he saw mirrored in the water? When I looked at him, I saw a swan. But what did he see? As if to answer my question, a flock of Mallards and wayfarers waddled to shore and surrounded me with a loud chorus of grunts and yodels and quacks.
Photo by Peter Castleton, Creative Commons via Flickr. Post by Darrelyn Saloom, co-author of My Call to the Ring: A Memoir of a Girl Who Yearns to Box.
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Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99 — Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In May we’re exploring the theme Swan, Swallow, Phoenix.
- Memoir Notebook: Sweet Talk - July 24, 2015
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- Memoir Notebook: The Worst Kind of Luck - October 31, 2014
Richard Gilbert http://richardgilbert.me/ says
I love the grace, humor, and deep subtext of this concise essay.
Darrelyn Saloom says
Thank you, Richard. Means a lot coming from you. I’ve been enjoying your craft pieces and cannot wait for the release of your memoir.
Ro Rainwater says
Good one, D! I can relate to that father/daughter dilemma. My dad was graceful as well in water, and loved to dive, at which he was also graceful. I admired that so much, and tried to emulate his diving beauty, but was never fearless enough to just let go and enjoy the feeling of airborne-then-waterborne flight. My handsome dad! Thanks for reminding me of those memories of him. He walked on in 1991. ♥ Ro
Darrelyn Saloom says
Sounds like we both had swans for fathers, Ro. So glad I could bring up those lovely memories. My father took the big trip (he called dying “traveling”) in 1992, a year after yours. But they will always be with us.
LeAnne McBennett Guidry says
Everything about this post spoke to me this morning- trying hard to portray a swany life, yet feeling like a duck- I can relate- My dad too was a beautiful ocean swimmer having grown up ‘at the beach’ – Thanks for the vivid memories that this post has conjured up for me- feeling more courageous because of it : )
Darrelyn Saloom says
I’m so glad to hear that reading this made you feel more courageous. And I know how much you miss and need your father right now. Come over soon for tea, so we can share stories.
cynthia newberry martin says
When he looked at you, I bet he saw a swan.
Darrelyn Saloom says
So sweet of you to say, Cynthia. : )
Maureen Doallas says
Beautifully written post!
It’s been said I have “negative buoyancy”; I cannot even float and so have never learned to swim. I have, however, learned to do some other things well.
Darrelyn Saloom says
Negative buoyancy sounds adorable to me. And, yes, you do many things well, mostly, you blow me away with your poetry (my father’s favorite art form). He would have loved your poems, Maureen, as do I.
Sally G. says
The grace and elegance the swans mirror on the water belie the fact that underneath the water their movements mimic those of the mallards and wayfarers. As does a beautiful piece of writing. No one sees the hard work it takes to produce something that appears so effortless. Lovely piece Darrelyn!!
Darrelyn Saloom says
Thank you, Sally. It’s nice to be appreciated. So glad you enjoyed.
Danny says
Agree with Richard’s comment but also loved the imagery. I could see you hitting the ocean’s floor and popping high in the air, then pouting on the dune. Really enjoyed this one. Especially happy you didn’t drown.
Darrelyn Saloom says
Wow! So glad you read and enjoyed. Thank you, honey. I’m happy I didn’t drown, too. : )
Jessica Fern says
Sweet essay, Darrelyn.
Relationships between daddies and daughters are especially interesting to me as I watch Chris and Mary-Jane grow more and more in love with each other. It also brings up memories I have with my dad. Instead of swimming we were spending summers water-skiing together.
If only it were easier to see ourselves the way the ones who love us see us.
Darrelyn Saloom says
So true, Jessica. It’d be nice if our daddies could see themselves the way we love them, too.
Carolyn says
A nice reflection of time spent with your dad. It warmed my heart.
My dad could not swim, but was an avid fisherman, boater and hunter all his life. He did not teach us to swim, but made sure we took swimming lessons every summer for several years.
Thanks for making me reflect on my own memories of my dad.
Darrelyn Saloom says
My pleasure, Carolyn. I never knew Floyd could not swim because he spent so much time on the water.
We are the lucky ones whose reflections of our dads are good ones.
So glad you stopped by. I miss you.
Jenny says
I’ve always been an underwater swimmer too. Even growing up with a pool in the backyard, I never learned to swim with grace.
You may not know what he saw mirrored in the water, but one thing is clear. He loved you and whatever you reflected, just as you were.
Darrelyn Saloom says
Jenny, I never knew you were an underwater swimmer, too. And you’re right, I don’t know what he saw reflected in the water, but I’ve never doubted his love.
Carrie Hebert says
What a great story of you & your father. I am so lucky to still have mine. We continue to make great memories. I love him more & more every day. As I am still a Daddy’s girl.
Darrelyn Saloom says
You are lucky, Carrie. Enjoy every moment.
Dave Malone says
Darrelyn, wonderful piece. Wonderful glimpse. I too enjoyed the subtext a great deal. Made me hungry to learn more about your father’s story. 🙂
Darrelyn Saloom says
Thanks, Dave. I asked my father tons of questions. I even interviewed him once and taped it. But I’m always thinking of things I wish I had asked.
Debbie Cutler says
Great piece Darrelynn. A father/daughter relationship
is such a special one. I’m so glad to get to know a little bit
more about him. Makes me think about my father as well.
Love
Debbie
Darrelyn Saloom says
Ah, thank you, Debbie. I’m so glad you enjoyed.
Barbara Weibel says
How we see ourselves and how others see us are usually quite different. In my eyes, you’re a swan.
Darrelyn Saloom says
I hear you, Barbara. But I still feel like a duck. So glad you skated by my beautiful swan friend. I have an archive of NOLA posts from your blog I need to catch up on. Wish I could have met up with you when you were so close to my home.
Barbara Hammann says
Darrelyn,
I loved this writing/ this remembrance of you and your daddy. My daddy was a wonderful swimmer, too, and all I ever really learned to do was to ‘float’ on my back, which I did very well, ha! I never learned to dive either, although I tried hard through the years. It made me very happy when both my children accomplished both the swimming AND the diving. I especially was encouraged to read my daughter’s comment here that she was feeling more courageous after reading this writing. You just never know when you are going to touch someone’s heart in a special way with your words….to inspire/encourage/uplift. Thanks so much! Also I just finished reading “My Call to the Ring” and LOVED it! Loved everything about it! Didn’t want it to end!
You have a special place in my heart! Thank you so much, Barbara
Darrelyn Saloom says
Barbara, I’m a pretty good floater, too. Your daughter is a swan and I, too, was thrilled when I read that the piece made her feel courageous. She is standing strong during this tough time, and I am so proud of her.
I’m so glad On Reflection brought back memories of your father. And I’m thrilled you enjoyed My Call to the Ring. Next time you’re in town, we gals need to go to lunch. Or dinner. I can’t wait to meet you.
Mary says
Oh, I just loved this piece. Especially since I know I’m a duck. As hard as my dad tried to teach me, I never even learned to swim.
Darrelyn Saloom says
Mary, to be a non-swimmer is only bad when your boat sinks or you live where it floods. I advise you avoid both.
Hope you read Maureen’s comment where she mentioned her “negative buoyancy.” If her poetry is any indication, I’d say it’s a beautiful thing.
Jack C. says
Loved the piece. I take pride in being a successful duck!
Darrelyn Saloom says
And so you should, Jack. I adore ducks.
Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to leave a comment.