When I was young, we owned a cottage near Northumberland Strait, near the eastern end of the New Brunswick-Nova Scotia border. We often swam there. I dream about it quite a bit. For some reason, it bothers me when I dream about places from the past that I'll never see again, yet I'm not completely free from. I also dream about our Sackville home and feel like I'm intruding on the new owners!
On the subject of swimming, at the age of twelve I failed a junior-level swimming course. I have a feeling that they looked at me in the first class and said, "He's going to fail!" The only reason I hadn't quit already was that I didn't want to be a quitter. (In hindsight, I should have just quit.) On the day that I failed it, we bought a new electric typewriter, so I've always associated that typewriter with my failure. Some years earlier my four older siblings had all taken a swimming course together, but three of them failed. Al least they failed together, while I felt alone. They encouoraged me to take the course again, but I was too proud. It's our failures that define us more than our successes.
No comments:
Post a Comment