june writing challenge day 14

monologue of a lifeguard

you ever heard of "dress for the fall, not for the ride"?

i feel in my heart of hearts that every day i come in mentally ready to witness a trauma, an emotional recoil to the water.

i have to emotionally prepare myself every time i wake up and brush my teeth for the fact that someone may or may not watch their life flash before their eyes, and it is up to me to yank the silver string that connects the soul back into their body. the truth is, it really doesn't happen. it really really really never happens. my job, on a literal level, is to yell at people who litter, make sure teenagers aren't using the space as a smoke spot, and generally pass the time. thats what you see, anyway.

i love the water. ever since my dad took my sister and i to the beach in north carolina all these years ago, it was impossible to pull me out of it. the quiet below when all your senses are in a watery pressure portal, and all that exists is you and your heart beating; i just love the water.

and yet, each day i come to work, i pray to god i don't have to be anywhere near it, because if i'm in the water, it means someone needs me. and in spite of the real anguish i prepare myself for every single morning, i hope i never have to come to the water.