First Catch

I had my brother’s old beat up board, blue boarding shorts and a few friends. The five of us stood there on the shores of New Jersey, staring out at the unpredictable. Joe to my left, his beach blonde hair flew with the wind and Jeff, with his big muscles was to the left of him. Chris and Dan both stood to my right grasping onto their black wetsuits and Sex Wax (I always loved the smell of that stuff). Like hard covered books hitting the floor, the waves came clapping down. The reminisces of summer lingered in the air as I took each breath in meditation. We then traversed through the sand, boards in hand, leashes leashed, and sprung ourselves into the mystical blue. The October water engulfed me as I tried to adapt to the rather brisk Atlantic. Struggling to get out because my duck dive (a move where one pushes the board and themselves under the water) was not yet perfected and the turtle (a move where one turns the board over with themselves underneath) wasn’t really effective. However, after being pushed back a few times I eventually made it out. I made it to the place where the boarders can sit all day, without a care in the world- a place that eventually becomes home to us “beach bums.
The sun was beating down on my salty back, creating a shiver to run form my toes to my beach blonde hair. Looking around at all the other guys with their dreads, strained chests and piercings, I felt a feeling of security; internal peace. I glanced over my other shoulder only to see the men fanning their way to shore. I cocked my head around, like an owl, and there is stood towering over me, Mother Nature herself. Stunned by the force of nature coming my way, I sprawled out on my board and made my way over what seemed to be the end of my life. Once over I only discovered another one on it’s way; I turned around, shore ahead, and began to paddle. I was ready, plant or plummet I was ready. It was gaining. I felt something hit me, and afraid that I hit someone I sprung my head backwards, only to see my friends gesticultaing to look forward. I straightened out. THen it came to me. My arms had stopped shredding the water, but I still remained in motion. I was surfing. Besides the fact that I didn’t even attempt to stand up, I was surfing!
Nearing the shore, I came to think that the old man was right, “once bit by the surfing bug you’ll never want to leave.’ I didn’t want to leave after that first ride, and come to think of it, I never did.