SHAPED BY A SPOT
The surf was flat. It was hot No fog. The sun and the beach has always been in my heart. Back in the Jersey days, riding air mattresses across the bumpy white water to shore. Coming home. Body singed. My hair blonder. Face darker.Eyes bluer. This was me. I the shower.The hot water stinging my sunburn. The sand that itched my crotch in my swimsuit in the car was gone, swirling around the drain.
So I paddle out again.
Yes, there is Mr 2016 Junior with his surf class. And another minion who sold his surf soul for cash.
"You can take whatever wave you want," said 2016 Jr, who gave me crap the day before.
I said nothing. Simply raised my hands. The surf was so small I wasn't going to go after knee high waves. If I got a sneaker waist-high, fine; if not, fine. I was out here to get strong, to paddle and get strong. I had already said everything I had to say to this guy. I had a bigger fight. So I paddled bak and forth.Took a break. Pushed off my board, enjoyed the view of this spot that has brought me so many friends and waves and lesson and given me a strength the land could have never provided for writing, performing, and this was still a spot for me--to save me. Please save me, I'm not done. Save me.. How many people have one beyond themselves that is still themselves.
I dig deeper in the water until I'm tired.
I haven't said a word to anyone.
I didn't even get a wave,
And I leave with the best still within me.
Saved for now--today that is.