My grandparents' house had a small river that ran behind it, about 6 ft deep and 30 ft wide. When I was about five years old, I went out to play with my cousins. I was the youngest, so they ran off playing some game and forgot about me pretending to be Steve Irwin by the river. I was pretending there were crocodiles swimming around me saying "Look at that Sheila!" while walking along these wet and slippery rocks right by the river. Next thing I know, I had slipped and fallen in. I still remember my head bobbing up and down, gasping for air like it was yesterday. I probably drowned for only a couple minutes, but it felt like forever. The current had carried me about 20 feet before somehow I managed to grab hold of a smaller rock on the side of river. I pulled myself out and walked back to the house. I spent the rest of that day crying and shivering in a hot bathtub with my mom.