I almost drown once. I felt the last vestiges of air leave my body as I was underwater. I felt myself strain to hold on until I reached the surface. And I felt myself begin to draw in water through my nose, almost a bubble – a tendril – of water crawling up each of my nostrils, milliseconds before I actually did break through the water.

I was only seven, but it was surreal. I knew much earlier in my swim that I should have gotten more air, but I was a mermaid collecting things from the bottom – what difference could a few more seconds down there really have?

Obviously, when you’re underwater, that’s not the best mindset to have.

Years later I can still remember the feeling. I can still remember my thoughts when I surfaced.

Nobody noticed, did they? I thought as I looked around.

A Hispanic girl in a bathing suit covered by shorts and a T-shirt jumped into the water. I didn’t know where my parents or sister were, so I climbed out of the water and went back to my towel.

My uncle drowned. Well, he wasn’t my uncle at the time; he was my mother’s brother. He drowned when he was 13 years old – long before I was born.

My parents made sure I knew how to swim when I was little. I had to take swimming lessons at an indoor pool. There was a section of the pool that was 13 feet deep. My least favorite part of the lessons was when they made us jump off the diving board into the 13-feet deep water.

I wasn’t afraid I’d drown then – I knew I could swim. No, I was afraid of the height of the board. Of how narrow the width was. Generally, people are afraid of heights because they think they’ll fall to their deaths. But I knew that wouldn’t happen in that setting, even as a kid. Too many trained professionals around to let one of the swimming students drown.

No, my fear wasn’t of what would happen when I landed. It was of the fall itself – of moving from a place of stability to a place of uncertainty, where I didn’t have as much control over myself and my environment.

Did I know that at the time? Definitely not. All I knew was I was afraid of heights.

My mom’s brother had drowned, but I was never afraid of water. Not even the day I almost breathed it in. No, after I’d toweled off and waited a little bit, I went back to swimming. I was a mermaid, after all. And I needed to collect seaweed from the bottom of the ocean.