The Surfer
By Angie Bromeland
The brave surfer stood in the ocean cave,
watching the waves. Finally, he walked into the water holding his board. He
laid across it and paddled into the ocean. For a while, he sat on top of his
board with one leg on either side of it. He counted the seconds between the
waves. He imagined the water crashing down over him. He was already planning to
return to this spot tomorrow. That’s when he knew he had become a slave
to surfing. He smiled at the thought. “Youth have found worse ways to
spend time,” he thought aloud.
Finally, it was time. He paddled farther out in the ocean,
and as a wave rolled beneath him, he jumped to his feet on the board. He
stretched his arms out like an eagle. And he flew. He flew with the wave for 23
seconds until it crashed over him. He held his breath as he plunged under the
water, and then bobbed to the surface again. He knew if his mom had seen that,
she would have said, “That was a close shave.” But he was safe and
having the time of his life. The salty splashes prickled his skin. He had a
huge smile on his face. He wanted to save this memory. He would rave
about it later on.
The surfer rode a few more waves, but none for as long as
that one. When the sun began to set, he paddled back to the shore.
He bent down in the sand. Using his index finger, he
scratched a message onto the beach: Crave the Wave. Then he slung his
board against his side, and found the sandy path that would lead him back to
his car. He wondered if they’d ever pave this path. He shrugged. It
didn’t matter. He’d be back again tomorrow.
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