Every year, the first week of August, we have a family vacation at the beach. One year, my Mom and I had a scary experience. I will never forget...

Mom had taken me out wave-hopping, jumping over humps of water before they became waves. Dad was wave-diving with my two older sisters. I couldn't and wouldn't do it. So, I wave-hopped instead. Mom would hold me near her, and when a hump came, we just rose with it. We got some pretty good ones. It was really fun. After a while, I started to get tired. I asked Mom to take me in so I could play in the sand on the edge of the water. We started in, and I turned my head to look back.

"Mom! Look at that huge wave!" I called. Behind us was a gigantic wall of water, and we were too far away to jump it. We were also far away from the beach. But, we took our better chance and decided to run for the beach. We didn't make it. The wave crashed over us at it's greatest breaking point. I went under water, and lost grip of mom.

The undertow was unusually strong that day, and I was afraid of being carried out to sea. Mom had said that if I got caught in the undertow, I would have been pushed and pulled down and out, far away from the beach. When I finally stopped moving so fast, I wouldn't know which way was up. That was a good way to die. I didn't know how long it would take, or if I would even survive. Did dying hurt? Was my life over before I was even a teen? What was it like to drown? I am surprised I could even think at that moment. For one long, long second, I was floating between what seemed like life and death. Suddenly, my feet touched sand. I could not tell if I was ten miles out to sea, so far under that I had touched the bottom, or if I was on the shore. My head had not broken through to air, though if I was ten miles out to sea, my body would be crushed on the bottom of the ocean.

My lungs were screaming for oxygen and I felt my life was over. When my head burst through and I seized a breath of air, I realized the water was carrying me to shore! It was still pushing, and my knees were grinding against the sand. Ouch! When I finally managed to stand, I almost fell back down. For a brief second fear struck me, until I saw Mom standing on the beach. She had gotten out moments before me. I didn't know if I could make it back to the blanket alone. I didn't have to. Mom helped me over to where I could rest my shaking legs and catch my breath. That was my first and hopefully only NDE, or Near Death Experience. I will always remember that day, for nothing else has ever brought me as close to understanding the gift of life.

I love you Grandpa,
Pixie
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