It was early enough in the morning that there were only a few people out on the beach, runners mostly, getting in their miles before they headed off to work. A black lab barked in a frenzy of joy, chasing a Frisbee as it is hurled into the waves by his owner. Further down the beach several tanned surfers gathered, laughing and joking before they headed into the water and out towards the surf.

...

Allan shielded his eyes and gazed out to where he could see his family swimming, and for a moment he was sure he could hear his son’s gleeful shrieks of laughter over the crash of the ocean. They were easy to spot, Tommy’s bright orange life vest was a spark of colour against the blue water, and his Marie raised a hand to wave to him back on shore.

The first time they had come here for Tommy, who had never seen the ocean and had been thrilled when they had told him where they were going for summer vacation. He had babbled for weeks about beaches and waves, sandcastles and swimming. Allan grinned to himself as he walked down to where the sand was wet and cold against his bare feet. Tommy had been very sad to learn that his father could not swim, not a stroke, and every time his mother had taken him out into the water Tommy had given his father a look of disappointment that he would not be joining them.

This year though, it would be different. Allan had spent hours overcoming his fear of the water, keeping it a secret from everyone, wanting it to be a surprise.

He stepped into the water and stilled, his eyes closing as he fought down a wave of anxiety. Swimming in the pool had become second nature, safe and sterile, the edge only a few feet away. But this was the ocean, blue and deep and full of undercurrents and dangers. He took several long, slow breaths, waiting for the cold fingers of fear to ease their squeezing hold on his heart. It was the sound of Tommy’s laughter that quelled the fear at last. “Daddy, Daddy come play!” His son’s voice carried over the water and reminded him why he had wanted to learn to swim in the first place.

He opened his eyes and looked out to where Tommy and Marie are swimming, both of them watching him and waving. He took another step, and then another, the sand drawn out from beneath his feet as each wave recedes. “Undertow” he thought to himself, and then tried to ignore the worry that immediately rose in his mind.

“If you sit here worrying about undertow, you’re never going to get to them.” He muttered to himself and took a deep breath. He took a few more steps before he could think anymore, and then dove into the next wave. He could hear Marie call out encouragement and Tommy laugh as he came up spluttering a moment later, the salt water stinging his eyes.

He tried again, the voice of his swimming coach listing off points to be remembered from somewhere deep in his mind. “Kick hard, strong strokes, slow and steady.” This time he managed not to inhale until his face was clear of the water, and soon the steady rhythm of his strokes had lulled the anxiety, giving him a sense of peace. When he stopped to catch his breath Allan was amazed to see he was already fifty feet from the shore. He turned towards his wife and waved. She waved back, a speck bobbing between the waves, Tommy’s bright jacket just beside her. “Daddy!” He heard Tommy’s squeal of glee. “Come on!”

With his son’s encouragement still in his ears, Allan sets off again. He swam until his mind let go of its most immediate concerns and began to wander, memories and riffs of thought tripping through his mind. “Stroke, stroke, kick, breathe.” That was his mantra. His thoughts turned to the last vacation, to watching Marie and Tommy out in the waves as he paced on the shore, angry at himself for allowing his fear to keep him from them. He let that anger fuel his strokes for a time, and as his arms tired he pushed himself on with thoughts of pride, of how happy Tommy would be to have his father swim out to him. He knew without lifting his head that he was getting closer to them, their voices grew louder, and he could hear the amazement in his wife’s voice. “Soon.” He thought to himself, “I will get there very soon. Then I can explain everything.”

Allan’s arms were like lead now, his heart thundered almost as loud as the roar of the ocean in his ears. He lifted his head, so far out now that the beach was a ribbon of white sand glowing in the morning sun. As he crested a wave he caught just a glimpse of Tommy’s lifejacket, though he could hear them call to him as clear as day. “Almost there.” He grinned to himself.

The waves challenged him, sapped his strength but not his resolve, and finally he was there. Marie’s smile was huge as she dipped beneath the waves to welcome him, her dark hair fanned out in the water around her face. Tommy’s laughter filled his ears. “Daddy’s here!”

He reached for Marie, his hand finding hers and holding it tightly. “I’m sorry.” He mouthed the words, both of them still beneath the water. “I’m sorry it took me so long to join you."

Back on the shore, it was hours before anyone noticed the neatly folded clothing set out on a driftwood log and wondered where their owner was. It was longer still before someone checked the pockets and found a wallet and two items. One was photograph of a young boy, dog eared and very faded, taken on what seemed to be this very beach. The other was a note that said simply. “Gone swimming.”