  To you winter may not be the time to go to the pool, but to me it was perfect. It was, of course, far to cold for anyone to swim, but the club owners have unintentionally provided a new source of even greater amusement. They held the belief that if the pool was left uncovered it would freeze, and so they placed giant mats covering all of one half of the pool.
To a full grown adult this would mean that you couldn’t swim. To a six year old it means you can run on top of the pool. It was an incredible sensation, and one that my brother and I cherished. The wonders of this mat didn’t end there, though; you could swim under the mat, and pop out of the seams. You could even make a bubble underneath the mat, and stay underwater for a full five minutes by breathing the air you had trapped there.
For the longest time I saw this as nothing more than good clean fun with no major risks. For a time so much longer, I regretted that. It was an average Houston winter’s day; with a gray overcast sky and temperatures plunging all the way down to fifty. I had a new toy, a water gun, and was darting around firing haphazardly at my dad, who would splash me in return. I decided to improve the game, by going under the mat and not saying where I would come up. I would ambush him. I thought it was genius. I went to the edge of the pool where you could slip underneath, gun in hand, bursting with the incredible wellspring of energy that children whose years can be marked on their hands always seem to possess.
I plunged underneath into a world of chlorine bleached plastic sky above, and hard concrete earth below. I exuberated in the feeling of being released from the shackles of gravity that have made fools of all humanity, and spun and turned in great loops. Bliss. A thought chided me, not one of urgency but of inconvenience. Air would be nice . I felt that I had plenty and let myself exalt in the sensation once again. Again the voice in my head infringed upon my merriment, its tone was more desperate this time. You really should get some air soon . Ok, fine. I turned to move towards the seam and burst forth, with the intention of once again merrily launching a salvo of water at my father. I turned again, and again, and again. Which way to go? In all my exuberance I had completely lost track of the path. If I went the wrong way I’d be going the length of the pool, a distance I couldn’t make on full lungs, much less on my now lightly-aching ones.
My mind lunged into action; firing away with speed allotted to it only in the direst of circumstances Which Way? Look for Shadows! I don’t see any! Shit! AIR! Where’re the stairs? Not enough light, I can’t tell! AIR. What now? AIR! Use James’s trick . How odd that my brother who I have attacked and been attacked by on regular occasion would be the one who would save me. I’d use his technique, and make an air bubble under the mat. Spinning to put my feet on the bottom I shoved upwards with all the strength I had left.
Nothing. A familiar and infuriating voice rose up in my head, the voice of logic. The air has to come from outside, you’re in the middle of the mat. You Can’t Lift The Whole Thing! Think Of Something Else! NOW! I did think of something else. I thought about how I was going to die before reaching the age of 10. I thought about dying and being cast into hell for recklessness. I thought about dying as a virgin. I thought about the agony of finally knowing what happens when you die, but not being able to tell anyone. I thought about what I had done thus far. I thought about my first fight, which had been only weeks ago. I thought about Mackenzie and wondered if she would even care that I was dead. I thought about my brother tottering around on stilts trying to reach the towering height of our father.
I thought about first learning to ride a bike. About the first time I went to the park near my house after dark. I thought about lying in a wooden cage with a padded floor in a distant place, curling tighter and tighter to keep warm while watching my brother stare at a glowing square heedless to my pain. It was a thought from before I had words. The image of those bars held itself in the forefront of my gradually collapsing mind.
It faded to meaningless lines. Lines. The lane lines! Go against them!
NOW!
GO! What I had begun to think of as my watery grave soon come back into view. I looked hazily down, angled my self, and pushed with strength I was sure I didn’t have. I struggled, clawing at the water, clawing my way out of my grave.
Light ahead. My mind fought itself for control of my body, I so wanted to give up, to end the agony that movement had become, but I wanted more to breathe. It grew steadily brighter, and I could see the image of my father’s legs moving back and forth as he wondered if I could hold my breath that long. I lunged forwards and upwards, clipping my head on a floating lane divider. What would later become a painful bruise went entirely unnoticed. Sweet life-giving air flooded back into my lungs. I felt as though my stomach had collapsed. I felt a lot of things, but most important was that I felt the shackles of gravity that once again embraced this fool and gave him back his life. 
