Riding waves

"No, not this one.”

“No, wait, the right wave is coming.”

Suddenly the dark shadow on the oceans surface grew until it became a big, perfect wave, and my son and I rode it all the way into shore.

Every summer I was fortunate enough to live at the beach, and, more than any other activity, riding waves was my favorite. I loved the excitement of seeing a wave coming my way, committing to it, and then feeling the moment when you know you have caught it. Just writing about it gets my heart beating more quickly, but it was not something I was good at from the start. I have missed more waves than I’ve caught, been tossed to the bottom, or “boiled” as we called it, more than I can count, and impatiently took waves that did not end up delivering a good ride.

Like every memory and experience I’ve had, there’s something to learn from riding waves. To this day, I long for the perfect wave, the one meant for me, that will carry me to the shore, but it’s not as easy as it looks. Maybe there’s nothing like a perfect wave. There are waves that look promising but never develop, waves taken because of misguided enthusiasm that aren’t the right ones for me. There are also those that have minds of their own that throw me to the ocean floor. But even in the waiting, the missing, and the throwing, there is joy just to be riding waves. Maybe that is the real lesson in all of this.

Happy last days of summer.