I am twelve, and I am looking at the sea. My parents and sister are up further on the beach, building a sand castle. The surf is rough, and it is not a good day for surfboards. The waves are not breaking high enough for that. They rarely do here. Instead, we get low-breaking waves with tons of power and undertow. Perfect for body-surfing or boogey-boarding.
But today only a blind, insane man would get in the thrashing water. It is a dark blue color, speckled with white and gray from the waves. It is a perfect day on the beach, which is why we are out at all. The sun is shining and tourists abound, but no one in in the water. The red flag flies high in the windy summer air.
I look to my family, and back to the water. The waves caress my feet, and i feel the warm water drawing me in. I want to match it. I am full of energy. I want to surf. I need to surf. I know that it is too dangerous. I am not stupid. I do not think myself immortal. I know that people have drowned in such water. I know about rip-tides and the inherent dangers of water through which you cannot see. I grew up here, and I know this ocean.
But it beckons to me. If you dare, it seems to say, if you dare I will show you what real power is. I will show you what you are. Try it. Try to ride me.
I fling my towel away from me and begin walking into the cool water. I have not forgotten all I have ever learned, I simply do not care. I do not have a death wish; I am ambivalent to death.
I am tall for a twelve year old. I have not finished growing yet, and there is more than a little baby-fat left on my bones, but i am strong, and bigger than most. My long blond-streaked brown hair is tied up in a bun, and so I can see the waves that fling me around. I am knocked flat on my ass several times. I am a sock trying to retain its shape in a washing machine. I do not know which way is up or dawn, for a moment. Then, I find the sandbar that the waves are breaking against. I have a moment to rest in between one set and the next, to get my head together. I am alive.
But today only a blind, insane man would get in the thrashing water. It is a dark blue color, speckled with white and gray from the waves. It is a perfect day on the beach, which is why we are out at all. The sun is shining and tourists abound, but no one in in the water. The red flag flies high in the windy summer air.
I look to my family, and back to the water. The waves caress my feet, and i feel the warm water drawing me in. I want to match it. I am full of energy. I want to surf. I need to surf. I know that it is too dangerous. I am not stupid. I do not think myself immortal. I know that people have drowned in such water. I know about rip-tides and the inherent dangers of water through which you cannot see. I grew up here, and I know this ocean.
But it beckons to me. If you dare, it seems to say, if you dare I will show you what real power is. I will show you what you are. Try it. Try to ride me.
I fling my towel away from me and begin walking into the cool water. I have not forgotten all I have ever learned, I simply do not care. I do not have a death wish; I am ambivalent to death.
I am tall for a twelve year old. I have not finished growing yet, and there is more than a little baby-fat left on my bones, but i am strong, and bigger than most. My long blond-streaked brown hair is tied up in a bun, and so I can see the waves that fling me around. I am knocked flat on my ass several times. I am a sock trying to retain its shape in a washing machine. I do not know which way is up or dawn, for a moment. Then, I find the sandbar that the waves are breaking against. I have a moment to rest in between one set and the next, to get my head together. I am alive.
