I am a Surfer

It all started when I went to California with my family. When in California, what do you do? Surf, of course. We signed up for a class. When we arrived to our lesson, we each choose a board. The one with the red and pink flowers exploding on green background called my name. Our instructor showed us how to lie on the surfboard and slowly get into a standing position. I listened intently, laid on my belly, and pulled myself up onto my hands and knees. I put my right foot flat onto the board and stood up.

Keeping my balance was so easy. No problem. I was a pro right away....until the

instructor said, “Okay, enough practicing on the sand. Let’s hit the waves.” Gulp.

Standing and paddling on the waves, no matter how small they are, takes a lot more

energy and strength than doing it on the sand. Paddling out 30 feet from the shore

while crashing into the waves, I swallowed ten gallons of salt water. In the

distance, I saw the Goldilocks wave, not too big, not too small, just right. Quickly, I

turned the board to face the shore and paddled frantically until I became part of the

wave. Popping up off my belly, my feet were well placed on the board and my center of

gravity was balanced. My knees trembled as I slowly stood, one inch at a time. I swayed

a little to the right, then a little to the left. My toes burned from digging into the board.

Eventually, I stood up. I chuckled at my accomplishment. I rode the wave like I owned

it. I sensed the eyes of my husband and children upon me, glaring with awe and

jealousy. I was standing up!

Then five seconds later, I wasn’t standing up. I tumbled off the board and splashed into

the water. The wave thrashed me about like a dead fish. There was nothing graceful

about it. It didn’t matter though. I had stood up!

So maybe I lied about being a surfer. Let me rephrase it. For five seconds, I was a surfer and queen of the ocean.