He stopped a moment to look back at the beach, sand turned orange and pink with the sunset, and sighed. It was a sigh full of contentment, of a feeling of being where he belonged, of holy-shit-I-live-in-a-beautiful-place. The rolling of the ocean beneath his board woke him from his reverie. Kicking his feet in an eggbeater motion he lay on his board and paddles for all he's worth to catch the last wave in the set. Knowing it's his last wave of the day he pops up to standing with a whoop. With a huge smile on his face he walks the board, hangs five, and cuts back and forth along the wave. There's no one on the beach or in the water around him; it's just him and the wave. Nearing the shore he crouches down to drag his hand in the water before floating over the back of the wave. As the board sinks, he falls back with a splash and laughs at himself. After he makes it to shore, dries off, and straps his board to the top of his beat up old Nova wagon, he cruises up the coast to watch the sun sink below the watery horizon. Somewhere between singing "Surfer Joe" by The Surfaris and "I Live For the Sun" by The Sunrays he's nearing Santa Monica and thinking about the golden age of surfing. All his life his dad surfed and shaped boards right here in Santa Monica. The surf culture was booming then. There was an unspoken code between the surfers, from the groms to the old hot doggers, and they lived by it. No one could actually tell you what the code was of course, but it was there all the same. Everyone innately knew that the ocean was wild and free and allowed us to ride only if we respected it and, in a way, each other. Near the pier he parked and watched the last rays of sunlight die behind the waves as he listened to the crash of them on the shore. What had happened to the beach? What had happened to the days of waking up before the sun just to see it rise while shooting the curl? He was one of the last of that era to hang in there. He was now the old hot dogger on his long board that the groms saw and either looked up to or called names knowing his time was over. His sun was almost set behind the waves. Soon his board would look pretty over the mantle and he'd be glued to a couch watching tv instead of to that board on the ocean. He thought of his dad and how he quickly lost his health when he couldn't surf or even shape boards anymore. It just happened one day and then 'poof', dad was gone. That wasn't going to happen to him, was it? He resolved that it wouldn't. He would do whatever he had to to keep surfing to his dying day. Nodding and deciding which beach he was going to surf at sunrise tomorrow he started up the Nova wagon and sang along with The Beach Boys, "Catch a wave and you're sittin' on top of the world…"
Ok, definitely nap time now...
Jewelry: HardWear by Lindsey
Sister Site: Film Making and Cookie Baking