I've told the story before, but what the heck. It bears repeating.
As a kid I inhaled J-Y Costeaus's books. Me and my siblings spent as much time as possible in the water, wearing fins, a mask and a snorkel. When we got too cold, we donned our track suits, believing they'd work as wetsuits. Of course they didn't. At the end of summer, we were dark brown on our backs and chalk white on the underside. My uncle was a scuba diver, and I got a book about scuba diving as a b-day present. I was hooked. I was certain I'd start diving.
Then life happened. Highschool, college, girlfriend, marriage, apartment, mortgage, kids, house, career. Oh well. Perhaps in my next life. Then, as one of my kids was in their middle teens, they got the bug as well. I knew that one should never dive alone, so my kid needed a buddy. I took one for the team and volunteered to accompany the kid, which meant I had to certify and buy the gear.
And here I am. PADI RD, CMAS 3*, avid scuba diver.