The Child was around 5 when His Father told him, as all fathers tell their sons at or around that age, that he was going to learn how to swim. On the drive to the local YMCA, The Father said to The Child that being alive is amazing, that life is the greatest gift, and today, The Child was going to begin to live. He continued to give The Child precious instructions about swimming, but as he spoke, The Child could only feel anxious while reminding himself that soon, this will all be over. Just as an overjoyed father-to-be, The Father began to ramble about how his son was going to learn to swim. Perhaps "Learn" is the wrong word; really the children "discover" how to swim.

His Father could not actually teach The Child, or anyone, how to swim, as he knew nothing about swimming. The Child's Grandfather had also, exactly as his son was about to do, thrown his son into the deep-end of the pool. At that point, His Father did what he could to breathe for as long as he could; he kicked, grabbed, arched his back, tilted his head, and pushed. His Father had succeeded in staying above the water, but never really understood swimming, he could only live. But then he had no genuine intent on teaching The Child anything; he was just going to throw him into the deep-end, The Child's Grandfather had done to him. After all, The Father wasn't even sure if what he had done to stay alive was correct. It worked, but he saw other boys staying up with less effort and for longer times. The Father, however, was too nervous and too busy keeping his head above the water long enough to get a good healthy breath into his lungs, to ever focus on the others, what they did, what he was doing wrong; he never learned how to swim, he just swam.

Unsure whether The Child would be better off than he was when he was first thrown into the deep-end to live his life, the father pushed his son to the edge. There were other fathers surrounding the cold linoleum ledge of the pool, holding their kids, who solemnly stared into their own eyes, which reflected from the placid water, thinking, "What the fuck am I doing here?" Whispering words of futile encouragement, the fathers gently, but then violently heaved their kicking and screaming sons into the deep-end of the pool. With a big splash, the precious offspring sank down to the bottom as the invading waters muffled the screams. Silence fell over the pool and the children began slowly orienting themselves. Abruptly, arms flung out of the water, heads followed, bobbing for moments above the surface, the screams began again, but ended suddenly. Now, few at a time, the children surfaced, and began struggling against their own weight to remain above the water. Beside the water, fathers looked for their sons, shouting at them pointless instructions.

The Child was doing well. Instinctively he used both his hand and feet to wade in the water. He briefly noticed that some boys had not re-risen, and were now underwater bidding farewell to a life they never understood. Bored with simply wading, the boy now begun to look around. He saw the others and began to analyze what would make his swimming more successful. Leaning forward the boy found that his weight could be distributed over more water area, making it much easier for him to float. He began stroking his arms and kicking. He was swimming. The Child swam with ease, passed checkpoints, rose to the top whenever he went under, struggled against exhaustion, boredom, and endured. All so he could see his father cheering him on, encouraging him to swim. The Child, very confused and unsatisfied, wondered what he was doing swimming. He saw the other kids practically drowning, he saw their fathers cry, he saw other fathers disappointed at the progress their children were making. Convinced that he had succeeded in swimming, the Child smiled, and decided not to swim any longer. He understood that he was suppose to be swimming, but did not understand to where. With no answer, the Child allowed his legs to limp; he closed his eyes and comfortably sank to the bottom. He opened his eyes for his last glimpse of the world. It was a hospital room, white curtains, his son was standing near him, his wife drowned long ago, his destination was still unknown, but he was tired now, accepted that he wasn't swimming anywhere but to the end of the pool and closed his eyes again.