Take Me to the Water
She had spent the first twelve years of her life with thoughts of becoming a water dancer drifting through her mind. At times mere wisps, but now as she readied to turn thirteen, they gathered together,THICK, clouds warning of an impending storm.
She had long watched others gather around the water’s edge, chests swelling in anticipation, waiting to see who emerge and begin to do what they weren’t meant to do. It had often seemed like just as many found themselves stuck beneath as those who managed to find their place among the ripples.
Then her day came. Up before anyone else, she donned her robe its hem puddling around her ankles.
Long before she could see the water, she could smell it and hear the elders gathered—in unison calling out, “
Take me to the water
Take me to the water
Her time had come.
Water, up around her knees
Water, up around her waist
Water, up around her chest
She kept walking until, at last, water—over her head.
The entirety of her body wanted to run for shore; but before she could move, the words of her grandmother gripped her:
“You cannot become a Water Dancer until you have experienced the bottom.
You cannot become a Water Dancer until you have felt the silt shift between your toes.
You cannot become a Water Dancer until you are no longer consumed with thoughts of drowning, but instead become consumed with taking the water in fully, no longer holding your breath.”
She took another step and allowed the coolness to overtake her nose and fill her throat. Before panic could set in, she realized the water stopped and did not overtake her lungs—it enveloped her.
For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be weightless.
Her toes no longer gripped the bottom.
In an instant, she began to
F L O A T.
As the crown of her head pierced the surface, her body did not stop there.
Lifting and Lifting,
Delicate toes coming to rest atop the ripples,
Remnants of the bottom gliding down plum skin,
She began to do what she was meant to do.
Dance.