We have a sailboat. Husband is avid sailor which he told me on date one. Of course, this was the same date that he put the sailboat “away for the winter” (barely knew what this meant at that time). Eight months later I was initiated into the world of sailing. I feigned more interest than I had (the relationship was going well! I knew he loved it!) but over the years have gone from fakery to vague hate to acceptance to even some level of enjoyment. In spurts. But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about swimming.

A natural part of sailing is, apparently, windless days. On those days, we let our kids swim off the side of our boat. When we first had them swim, we would both get in, but as they’ve gotten older, they often go without us, tirelessly jumping off the side, sometimes doing a lap around the boat to test their strength. Our main rule is to “stay near the boat.”  And even though they are both strong simmers,  we make them wear life jackets. We also sometimes attach “lines” (this is what ropes are called on a boat I’ve learned) to the boat so they have something to hold onto if the current gets strong. As their swimming skills have improved, the lines and jackets have seemed less necessary, but we are (we thought) not morons, so the life jackets have always been required of them and any kid who swims with them. We have been more lax with the lines.

We recently set off on a two week sailing trip (yeah. note: I am home early). On day two, we were anchored near something called Duck Island. I’d never heard of it either. Many other boats were around (also anchored) and it was hot. Boy child (age 6) was eager to swim and got in first . He had on a life jacket, but we had not attached any lines to the boat. Boy jumped in and was immediately terrified by the current (which has never happened) and starts saying things like “I need help!” with varying levels of urgency. Within a minute, husband jumps in and says “Wow the current is really strong.” Which is the opposite of reassuring but kind of gives everyone involved a sense of how bad it must feel in there. He swims to boy (who is now some distance from the boat – like, too far for comfort even with no current) and tries push him back toward the boat while fighting the current himself. Boy is now freaking the fuck out and so is girl child (who is 9 and is standing next to me on boat watching this all go down). I find a line and I start throwing it to boy praying I will reach him despite having no clue how to tie the damn line to the boat (as in, I’m holding one end while violently throwing the remainder in toward child).  Turns out, when you’re scared your kid is unsafe, you have a more powerful throw than you thought you might.

Meanwhile I can see that spouse is floating further and further away from boat but my main focus is on boy. I’m trying to coax him into calmness (You are going to be okay! I promise, you can do this! You are a great swimmer! You’re almost here!) while I also scream things like “Grab the rope! Grab it! Shit! The rope didn’t go far enough.” Boy eventually grabs onto rope, I pull him in and he is hysterical. Turn attention to spouse who starts saying  (more like yelling so I can hear him from the distance) “Get help, I need help!” and I’m there like the dumb blond who knows shit about how the boat operates despite this being my 12th summer on boat.

Kids start screaming things like “My daddy! Something is going to happen to my daddy!” and I’m wildly poking buttons on the stupid radio that has an emergency button but needs to be ON for said button to work. I have no fucking idea how to do this (12 years in) and it is not obvious. As in, there is no “power” or “on” button. So I tell the kids to figure out how to turn on radio (they do, and I don’t know if that says more about them or me) while I blow this emergency horn that I miraculously know where to find. I blow this horn (holding it above my head even though it’s deafening from anywhere within mile radius) what feels like a zillion times while pointing at drifting spouse who is also waving his arms.

Kids then hand me radio and I try to tell the radio people where we are and I’m saying something like “Um…we’re anchored off of duck island and my husband is caught in the current” while trying to use calm voice so as not to frighten terrified kids even more (as if this mattered). The radio dude (coast guard? No idea) says “ma’am where are you? What are your coordinates?”  The fuck? But as I’m trying to sound like I have a single clue (by saying things like “we’re not on the harbor side” which I am only parroting from spouse who happened to say these exact words about an hour earlier) I see a nearby motor boat heading toward husband. So I politely thank the boat authorities (who seem not at all reassured by my claim that “a motor boat is coming to help.”). Motor boat fetches spouse. He arrives back at boat intact.

Needless to say, it was intense and kept me up all that night. Not because I thought anyone was near drowning but because it was scary and I kept picturing boy’s terrified face as he used all strength and determination to swim toward me and his only hope of safety.

And also needless to say, we – especially husband – have a newfound religion: Boat Safety.