I’m supposed to write something about "channel." I don’t know which kind. A channel like a waterway channel? A TV channel? Channeling a spirit or entity? Hmmm. I guess I get to see where this goes. All I know is that when I woke up this morning, the word “channel” was etched in my head. I don’t even have the first idea what to write. These are my favorite ones, when I just put my fingers on the keyboard and start pounding and thrashing, and we find out what happens. I’m Commercial Herschel, and I’m here to help. Let’s go.
Roger loved to swim. He’s been swimming avidly since he was a kid. His grandma taught him to swim. She was so encouraging and wonderful that it filled him with a sense of accomplishment when he swam with her. That carried over into his life in other areas, and he also actually became a competitive swimmer.
When Roger was little, his family would go to an area in Upper Lower Michigan called the Chain O’ Lakes. He loved it, and who wouldn’t? It was so fun. He swam a lot, under the careful supervision of his grandma. “Someday, I’m going to swim across the whole lake.” He said. “How will you get back to this side?” she responded. He scratched his head. “I guess I’ll swim.” He looked puzzled. He realized he hadn’t thought it through. “Maybe I’ll wait till I’m older so I can do that.” He told her. “That’s a good idea.” She responded. The lakes were small enough to swim across for older people, who were bigger and stronger, and he looked forward to that.
When he was back home with his mom and dad, he was part of a swimming club at the local rec center. Eventually, he was swimming every morning before he even went to school. It wasn’t very long after that that he was swimming competitively and winning medals. His trophy shelf in his bedroom was loaded down with trophies and medals of all kinds. He had several from different types of events. Relays, sprints, freestyle, and even distance swimming.
By the time he was 13 years old, he was able to not only swim across the lake, but he could also swim back. It was actually pretty easy for him already. His grandma would watch proudly from the dock and shout encouragements to him, reminding him to breathe and relax, and she’d coach him on his mechanics, too. It really meant a lot to both of them. When he’d get back to their side of the lake, they’d have lunch on the little beach. It was a wonderful time.
He told her that one day he wanted to swim the entire chain of lakes. He’d start at the top lake, swim through each of the channels, and then go right to the bottom lake. “You’re going to need help with that.” She told him. “You’re going to need to have someone in a boat shadowing you, making sure you’re OK, and rescuing you if you cramp up.” “You can do it for me, grandma.” He told her. “We’ll see about that." She said. You’ll be an adult by the time you’re able to do that.” “We can do it!” He exclaimed.
In his freshman year of college, where he was able to parlay his swimming skills into a partial scholarship, Roger got the sad news that his grandma had passed away in her sleep. He took a week away from school to mourn with his family. At her memorial service, he placed his most prized medal from his competitions with her, along with a few skipping stones he had collected at the beach on the lake. His heart was broken, but he also knew that he would be nothing without her and that the successes he was enjoying in life were due to her encouragement and the confidence that she had afforded him.
As his time in school continued, he competed heartily, he won many meets with his teammates, and he had even accomplished being a reserve on the US Olympic team. All the while, heeding his grandma’s coaching and consistent reminders.
By the time he graduated college, he had a fiance, and it was very sad that his grandma would never meet Alice. He and Alice would go to the lake and swim. Also an avid swimmer, it was something they could do together. He told her of his goal to swim the entire chain of lakes. She was supportive, and she would pilot the trolling boat they’d use as his support vehicle.
She kept her distance in the dinghy, letting him do his work, leaving him to concentrate without distraction. He recalled his grandma reminding him to relax, to let his lungs do the work, to think long, stretched strokes. He would feel his muscles reach for the water and pull him through. Long, easy strokes, fully elongating his arms, raising his backside, and using his upper chest as a buoy.
As he passed through the second channel of the four lakes, he felt a cramp developing in his thigh. He heard his grandma’s vice remind him that this was not a race, and he turned over to sidestroke, which would allow his hamstring to relax more while he used the top of his thigh to propel him.
He continued to freestyle his way through the next lake, simply enjoying himself. From sidestrokes, to backstrokes, the freestyle and the Trudgen. As he entered the final channel of the chain, he was entering the smallest lake, and he relaxed his way through all these strokes. He had breathed well through this entire process, but there was some fatigue and muscle tightness.
“Enjoy yourself and have some fun with a breast stroke, give your legs a little rest.” His grandma’s voice assured him. Alice could see that he was slowing down. She came a little closer so she could see his face. He looked fine. He was enjoying himself. It was almost as if he was there with someone. “Use your whole body.” His grandma told him. Roll and glide through the rest of the distance.” He was about halfway through the smallest lake, and he began to roll smoothly and easily from front crawl to Trudgen to backstroke, simply relaxing, breathing well, and enjoying using all of the techniques he had learned in order to conserve and interchange muscle movements throughout his body.
As he reached the beach at the end of the swim, he laid down and covered his face. Alice landed the dinghy and threw him his towel. “I’m going to make it both ways. I know I can.” “That’s a long way, we’ll see.” Alice said.
“We can do it.”
The End
I guess what this is about is how there are voices we hear our whole lives. It makes me think that we have to be careful in case we become a voice in someone else’s head.
There you go. I’m Commercial Herschel and I’m here to help. You’re welcome.
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Flash Fiction: The Channels