Are You A Scardy Cat? Sara Etgen-Baker   © Copyright 2023 by Sara Etgen-Baker

Photo courtesy of the author.

In my child’s mind, the solution was simple: Go to the city pool and jump in the cool, refreshing water.

“It’s soooo hot, Mama! May we go swimming today?” I pleaded.

“No, sweetie. It’s too expensive to go swimming.”

Spending 25 cents on admission was an extravagance and something Mother did only once or twice in the summer. But every day I persisted, hoping one day she’d give in and take my brother, Eddie, and me to the swimming pool. Sure enough, one magical day, she agreed. Never mind I didn’t know how to swim and secretly feared being in water over my head.

Mother drove us to the pool, dropping us off at the front entrance. We dashed from the car toward the pool entrance, inserting our quarter into the turnstile and gaining access to the pool area. We giggled uncontrollably leaping over puddles of water and making a beeline for the kiddie pool, the one designated for children less than four feet tall. We tossed our towels along the fence where other wet towels laid in clumps then kicked off our flip-flops. The water glistened in the early afternoon sun, beckoning us to jump in feet first where other kids were laughing and shrieking; slapping at the water; splashing; and pretending to swim.

Eddie immediately jumped in, but I sat on the edge of the pool content with dangling my feet in the water, hesitant of letting go of my fear and jumping in.

“Come on in, sis!” he exclaimed. “The water’s fine.”

“No!” I snapped back.

“Why not? Are you a scaredy cat?” he asked smugly, insinuating that he was somehow braver and, therefore, better than I.

“No! I’m just not ready. Leave me alone.”

He paddled away and disappeared while I sat in silence, suddenly noticing the shrillness of the lifeguard’s whistle and the smell of chlorine and sunscreen mixed together. I eventually stood up, resolved to jump in if for no other reason than to remove that summertime stickiness off my body and cool off.

I placed my feet near the pool’s edge and looked down. “It’s not that far,” I thought to myself, inching my feet a little closer. Then all of a sudden I felt someone rush past me then shove me from behind. Before I knew it I was tumbling into the pool with such force that I almost did a belly flop. Stunned and startled, I rose from the water spitting and spewing like a whale who’d inhaled too much water. I swiped the wet hair off my face and walked to the edge of the pool where Eddie stood laughing hysterically.

“Got you!” he said, grinning with self-satisfaction before darting past me and jumping back into the pool.

“Show off!” I shouted before pulling myself out of the pool and plodding across the hot, gritty cement to where my crumpled towel lay, using it to wipe the water and indignation off my face. I sat on the sidelines and stewed, angry with Eddie for having called me a scaredy cat and for having fun at my expense.

But when all was said and done, Eddie was right. I WAS a scaredy cat, letting my fear prevent me from jumping in the water and having summertime fun.