There's a river east of the tallest cherry tree on Baker's St. that my mother doesn't allow me to swim in. She says that the slightest sliver or a drop of it on my soft brown skin would destroy me. First, you'll only feel a slight sting. Then it'll start to burn. You'll think you're on fire, but by then, no one will be able to help you except yourself. 

For the first decade of my life, I didn't dare doubt her. I stayed away from the river east of the tallest cherry tree on Baker's St. But day by day as I sat on my porch, dreaming the dreams only those brave enough to dream could dream, my mind wandered to the one place forbidden for me. The one place where my presence was sinful. In the town square, I heard legends of those who dared. Those who dared to take a dip in that for which destruction was promised. How they emerged out of those forbidden waters with sweat and breath of gold. How their arms became wings; How they could now fly, soar to wherever their hearts begged them to go.

Now it's your turn, my body begged me. She's just jealous, she doesn't want you to do what she couldn't. 

Your dreams are too big for her world.

Your dreams don't have to be suffocated by her desires.

So I jumped. I leaped. I soared into the water. My eyes burned but I didn't care. My lungs burned but I didn't care. I turned from flesh to bone but I didn't care. I no longer have my mother. Now I care. Now I regret. She was right. I should've learned to swim first.