One of the nice things about surfing: the metaphors. You're never short of metaphors. Yesterday, September 10, I was out in the water early. I love the early fall conditions - pale blue sky, the crisp jade of the ocean, cold enough to warrant a fullsuit. I was out at Undisclosed Location (rapidly becoming my go-to spot); the waves, such as they were, were pretty much all mine. Clear quiet solitude. Most of the session was spent stroking into waist-high junk that seemed to back off as soon as the board found purchase, but there was one...everything flowed, my takeoff, slight stall, a quick step towards the bow, finding trim as I stood both feet forward, parallel, soul-arched for a ride that took me a few dozen yards.
What you notice is the silence. Sometimes there's a slight hiss, that of the board slipping across the wave, but such was my state of mind - not thinking, just being in the moment - that even that failed to register. The Glide. Everything in it's right place.
Today, six years ago, every conceivable silence was shattered. The echoes still ring through our collective mind, and have settled into our bones, a long grief that will likely be with us for the rest of our days. Today, I'm thinking about that day. But I'm also thinking about my baby girl who will be with us in a few scant weeks. I'm thinking about my little boy, who told me yesterday while I was trying to convince him to get dressed - "Sorry, Daddy - I'm not very good at holding still, but I love you!" I'm thinking about Beth, as I always do. I'm thinking about two fantastic opportunities that are on the horizon (can't talk about that just yet). In short, I'm thinking about life, and how it does, every so often, despite the horrors that we endure, line up perfectly.
