The cutting tone of her speech, “And you said, and you always say, and you never do” came at me sharp and clear until the force of it knocked me in the head like a blow from a baseball bat. I know I flinched, sitting there in the passenger seat of the car while he drove and she battered away at the side of my head. I need to swim, I thought. And I imagined the words shot from her mouth slowing until they felt thick like deep water moving. And I noticed that the hairs that had stood on the back of my neck were relieved and they floated out and away from me like the hairs on my head. I moved my arms just to test the force of the current I was up against and to my surprise it wasn’t bad. I smiled and with delight and certainty I exhaled. Lovely, beautiful bubbles rose to the waters surface each carrying light and color to the other side. I breathed in the experience. So calm. So refreshing. Finding terra firma, I deliberately pushed off. Determined yet poised. I took stock in my swift and efficient ways. I lifted my head to the light and felt the sensation of my face breaking through to the other side. So perfect a feeling: to be a part of something and notice the moment you are apart of that something, and realize it coincides so perfectly with the moment you are a part of something else. The break.