Devonne Brown

Water Wings

“Let go,” he said. He trusted his water wings as much as he trusted me in the deep end under the lifeguard stand. I wasn’t sure I heard him right. There was so much noise around us. Splashing, water falling, kids screaming. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear him right. He was two. “Let go.” he said stronger this time. I had one boy in one arm, another in the other. I let go and he drifted, kicked and waved his arms around. His tiny head stayed above the water. He laughed.

“Let go,” came the voice of the other brother under the other arm. He was two as well. The twins. His head stayed afloat just fine. They didn’t need me to hold them up in the pool. They were moving under their own power. I stayed close, but they stayed away from me. They didn’t want to be touched, to cling to me anymore. They wanted to move and glide where their will and water would take them. They were free. 

My arms were loose and empty, without weight. I moved and floated around them like a dolphin. I kept sure they were buoyant without touching them, it was magnificent. To be free in the water with my babies swimming with cautious confidence. A new world of wonder had opened up for us. 

They swam away from me and back to me, never going further than their confidence would allow, but I watched it grow. They swam to the side and swam to me, I wasn’t allowed to carry them. Their independence was fierce that day until fatigue made them reach for my neck. 

The boys were pretty much done with the shallow end of things that day. A harbinger of freedoms to come for us both. Little by little I learned to let go. They always told me when it was time, but I never stood too far away. I still don’t.