“Don’t swim if you don’t want to,” said the elegant older lady with shimmering blue eyes and flowing silver hair. Her hair stood out to me because she was captivated by mine, gently caressing my long, chestnut locks while her azure gaze locked onto my green eyes. We were far from any body of water, and at the time, I didn’t grasp the true meaning behind her words. She was living with Alzheimer’s, and her message reached me long before I became a parent. During a visit to my husband’s grandfather in a hospital for Alzheimer’s patients, this woman seemed drawn to me; the nurse suggested I must remind her of someone special. So, I sat there, letting her touch my hair as she repeatedly spoke of swimming, pausing occasionally to hold my face and gaze into my eyes. Since then, I’ve viewed her words as a metaphor for life—don’t engage in activities that don’t resonate with you—but lately, I’ve been applying this concept more directly with my son.
My son is nearly six now, and he doesn’t know how to swim. I’ve echoed her words: “If you don’t want to swim, don’t swim.” However, it’s crucial for his safety that he learns. If he’s hesitant to swim, that’s understandable, but he must acquire the skills nonetheless. Despite our persistent efforts, he remains terrified of the water. At two, we visited the beach, where our house featured a fenced-in in-ground pool. He wouldn’t even step beyond the fence. We tried coaxing, bribing, and finally managed to get him to stand at the pool’s edge on the last day of our trip. He screamed the entire two minutes we spent there, prompting us to wonder if we were causing him trauma. So, we decided to postpone our efforts.
The next opportunity came when we enrolled him in a swim class the following year. My husband joined him for the Mommy and Me classes. At age three, he clung tightly to my husband as the other children were mostly infants. He didn’t attempt to swim, and we didn’t push him. We kept him in flotation devices, and he’s never been in the water without an adult. This has persisted year after year, with swim classes, beach outings, and visits to my siblings’ pools. He simply won’t swim, and it seems unrelated to his strong-willed nature or lack of adventurousness (as some have suggested). While he can be strong-willed, he has never resisted like this before. In other areas, he’s quite adventurous, eager to meet new friends, try exotic foods, explore new summer camps, and even pick up musical instruments or wade into a creek to catch crawfish. Yet, swimming remains a barrier.
He turns six next week, and we plan to visit my brother in California, with a water park outing scheduled for the end of August. He has to learn to swim. Last night, my husband initiated their nightly trips to the YMCA pool. Our son spent 45 minutes sitting on the steps, refusing to enter and listing all the reasons he didn’t want to swim. But finally, he took a step into the water and began kicking his feet, attempting to swim.
As I tucked him into bed, he shared his experience and expressed disappointment over how long it took him to find the courage to enter the pool. He confided his fear of the water and felt embarrassed that, as he approaches six, he still can’t swim. I took the time to explain the importance of learning to swim and reassured him that he simply needed to do his best. I told him that if he gives it his all, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But if he never tries, he won’t discover his potential. As we snuggled together, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “I’ll just try harder tomorrow.”
Isn’t that what we all can do? Just strive to do better tomorrow. As I lay beside him, I remembered the woman from the hospital years ago, who was trying to impart a message I now understand: If we don’t want to swim—whatever that may mean—we don’t have to. Yet, if we never attempt, how will we know if we truly want to? I hope my son learns this important lesson: to embrace new experiences and be courageous. If, after trying, he decides it’s not for him, that’s perfectly alright. It’s the effort that counts.
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Summary
In this reflective piece, a mother shares her journey with her son as he grapples with his fear of swimming. Through the lens of a past encounter with an Alzheimer’s patient, she emphasizes the importance of trying new things and overcoming fears, illustrating that effort is what truly matters in life.