Fingers crossed
Posted on | April 26, 2006 |
I remember going down a water slide for the first time: I was six or seven, it was the apex of summer and very hot. We were in L.A., at someone’s backyard pool, with the babysitter. I didn’t know how to swim—or at least, I didn’t know how to swim without support (I remember clinging to plastic milk jugs to buoy me up—the cheap version of waterwings, for sure.)
“Go for it,” she told me casually from the edge where she dangled her long legs in the water. Her toes were painted red. I adored her. “When you hit the water, hold your breath and kick you feet, and don’t stop kicking.”
I believed her entirely.
And I wanted to go down the slide so badly. I imagined its blue fiberglass hull was the back of a dolphin. Resolute, I climbed up the rungs of the ladder; up to the top.
I could see over the fence from there, into the neighbor’s yard—I could see their turquoise pool and waterslide, and beyond it, another pool in another yard. This is what certain neighborhoods were like in L.A.: back yard pool after pool, separated by high fences or concrete walls. A patchwork of postage stamp yards—with a stitching of bougainvilleas and roses between them.
But we didn’t have a pool. And we didn’t live in a neighborhood like this. My dad always had a fierce attachment to having land (something I seem to have inherited), so we lived on two acres at the top of a mountain in Northridge, with a wild yard full of bamboo and prickly fruit and loquats. Instead of having pools, our neighbors kept horses.
So the whole pool thing was wildly exotic to me. A dream come true. The perfect antedote to the oven-hot of mid day. The perfect balm to scratched knees and boredom. The perfect escape.
Once I’d decided, I went for it, just like that. No second guessing. No long minutes wavering at the top. I climbed up, crossed my fingers, and slid down—the speed sending me hurtling towards the water, replacing breath with giddy glee. Then I hit with a splash and sank. Down I went, and down, and down.
But I held my breath.
And I started kicking.
And suddenly I was moving up and up, towards the blue bright surface where the water and air pressed together in a thin line. Then I burst through, gulping and ecstatic. I was swimming.
I’m still like this. When I decide to go for something, I simply do. I don’t waver. I don’t linger at the top wondering what if?. I just jump in.
Then I hold my breath and start kicking—which is pretty much where I’m at right now with my whole job search. I went to a school today that I’d love to teach at—close to home, and rich with opportunities for professional development. But it’s in the most competitive district in the state—and they’ve received close to 200 applications for just that one position. So I’m mostly just holding my breath. And kicking.
And keeping my fingers crossed.
Comments
16 Responses to “Fingers crossed”
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April 26th, 2006 @ 11:56 pm
Mine are crossed for you, too. Great story.
April 27th, 2006 @ 1:52 am
Best of luck to you
April 27th, 2006 @ 2:43 am
Here in Sweden, we hold thumbs instead. Mine are held for you (and another friend who is interviewing today)
April 27th, 2006 @ 3:12 am
you are so brave Christina. I’m crossing my fingers for you!
April 27th, 2006 @ 9:22 am
Oh Yes. Best of luck to you with that. I’ll be wishing hard for you.
April 27th, 2006 @ 9:28 am
Brave indeeed. Someone once told me it’s good to just cross your fingers on one hand, and that if you cross your fingers on the other hand too, you’re crossing out your luck. Like saying “Not, not.” (did you ever do that as a kid?) Kinda like the photo. Which, by the way, is really cool. I love the contrast. If it’s meant to be, it will be. And I’m sure they’ll see the potential in you — you’re an amazing person. Let that shine through.
April 27th, 2006 @ 10:29 am
I love your link and this post brought me back to my own childhood in LA, our first house. We didn’t have a pool either. A big backyard with a dry well and fruit trees; pomegranate, lemon and apricot. Seperated from our neighbor, the dentist by a big concrete wall that we’d climb and look longly at their pool. Waiting in anticipation of an invitation to go swim.
April 27th, 2006 @ 1:01 pm
oh! good luck!
April 27th, 2006 @ 3:41 pm
beautiful and well told story. simply brilliant. wishing you the very best.
April 27th, 2006 @ 10:58 pm
congratulations on taking the plunge! for what it is worth, I would hire you. pass along their phone number and I’ll give them an earful
April 27th, 2006 @ 11:17 pm
The very best way to live. Jump!
April 28th, 2006 @ 1:07 am
Out here on the left coast- we have fingers crossed for you;)
Let us know when you hear you have it!
April 28th, 2006 @ 9:52 am
boy howdy, do we know what that is like. crossing my fingers for you.
April 28th, 2006 @ 1:46 pm
Wow that is some insane amount of competition - best of luck!
May 2nd, 2006 @ 9:26 am
That is exactly how I make decisions too!
Great story! here from Choookooloonks
Mary, mom to many
May 4th, 2006 @ 11:58 pm
[…] as though it were the pigment seeping from crushed petals. So much is undecided. (I got an interview on Monday, and I’m terrified; we’re going out of town for the weekend (our firs […]