⏱ ~4 min reading
The lake smelled of warm water, wet wood, and pine trees. The sun was high. A sandy beach stretched along the shore, and beyond it was a wooden bridge for those who could already swim.
Ivanko knew water up to his waist. He knew it up to his chest. He knew the taste of lake water when you accidentally swallow it — a little grassy, a little cool. He knew how fun it was to splash around in the shallows — to jump, splash around with his dad, look for small pebbles on the bottom.
But further on — where the water became deeper and darker, where the bottom was no longer visible — Ivanko didn't swim. He was afraid.
“Son,” Dad said on Wednesday, “try to sail a little further today.”.
"Where I can't reach with my legs?"
"There. I'll be right there. In the water. Like a wall.".
Ivanko looked at his dad. Dad was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing swimming goggles that he pushed down on his forehead. His smile was calm.
"What if I go to the bottom?"
"You won't go. The water won't let you go. You saw a leaf lying on the water - it doesn't sink. Because the water holds it.".
"I'm not a leaf. I'm heavier.".
"But water holds it harder. You're like a big leaf.".
Ivanko smiled. The thought of himself as a big leaf seemed funny.
They entered the water together. Dad in front, Ivanko behind him, holding on to Dad's hand. First — up to his waist. Then — up to his chest. Then the water rose up to Ivanko's shoulders. Here he stopped.
"Dad. It's deep here.".
"Deep. But I'm here.".
Dad took a step back. He held out his hands.
— Lie down on the water. Like this — on your back. Relax your legs, relax your arms. Breathe calmly.
Ivanko slowly leaned back. At first it seemed to him that he was about to fall under the water. His heart was pounding.
— Dad, I'm falling!
"Don't fall. Breathe.".
Ivanko took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. And suddenly he felt the water lift him up—gently, like a big warm palm. His back lay on the water. His ears were hidden under it—and the whole world became a little quieter, with a distant hum.
— I'm lying down!
— You're lying down. He's holding you.
Ivanko lay there for a while longer. The sun shone through his closed eyelids—orange, like a small bonfire. Dad stood nearby—Ivanko felt his presence without even looking.
Then Ivanko returned to the counter.
"And try it now. A few steps away from me. Like a fish.".
Ivanko took a step. Another one. Another one. He couldn't reach the bottom—and it was scary, but interesting at the same time. He waved his arms, as they had taught him—as if he were stroking the water. And the water carried him. Not fast, not far—but it carried him.
Dad swam alongside. He didn't touch me, but he was there.
When Ivanko turned to his dad and grabbed his hand, he was proud, wet, and a little out of breath.
— I swam, Dad!
— I swam.
— Bottomless!
— Bottomless.
"Why was I afraid before?"
Dad thought.
"Because I haven't tried it. Fear lives where nothing has been tried yet. And when you try it, it diminishes. Like a lump of sugar in tea.".
On the way home, in the car, Ivanko sat wrapped in a towel, like a little cake. His wet hair was drying on his lap. He was tired in a good way — as one can be tired after something important.
— Dad.
— What, son?
— Shall we swim again tomorrow?
— Let's swim.
— And the day after tomorrow?
— And the day after tomorrow.
Ivanko smiled and leaned his cheek against the cool window. Outside the window, pine trees stretched. The water of the lake remained behind - calm, warm. It held on to the promise to carry Ivanko.
💡 Water holds those who trust it.