Category: Growing Up

I could not wait to get into the water so I ignored my mother’s order to walk and not run towards the surf. 

This was the early 80s and unlike kids today I did not have to wait to apply sunblock or unload a myriad tools. No, all I had to do was open the car door and jet out towards the water with my parent’s yells become less loud with every rushing step. I stuck to the shallower part of the beach for some minutes allowing the frothy water tickle my toes. This made me shiver. Eventually I stepped further into the beach and started to really size up the waves breaking up ahead.

I must have taken a step to far before I realized I was out of my depth and instinctively turned around to head to dry sand. Too late, a big heavy wave pulled me towards it and heavy water pounded on my shoulder and head like a hammer. The next sensation was the pressure at my back pushing me into the depths while my scream let out a hundred air bubble out. Next came the sting of a rock hitting my knee and the feeling that this would never end. Somehow I found footing and I raised myself enough to get some air. That’s when the next wave hit and I was plunged back into the fear. Finally I felt a tug at my hand as my dad fished me out. 

When I cleared my eyes I saw him standing there with the water barely lapping his shins. He asked if I was okay. I told him I was. 

Years later, right before he died he retold me recounted his memory of that day. He said he thought I’d be okay in life because moments soon after this happened I was once again chortling out belly laughs while in the surf while occasionally keeping an eye on the breaking waves.