By Morgan Sliff
There was a lot to think about this morning. Mom’s wedding was coming up, potential semi-spontaneous Mexico trip next week, and ironically enough as my Mom’s marriage is beginning, mine is finally, in the next few weeks, coming to a close. Kind of like death and rebirth (well, that sounds depressing).
I waited until around 10 when I knew the surf crew would be leaving, and needing some solo water time, I thought the wind chop bump would surely keep bodies out of the break. Making my way down the sand, I saw two familiar faces. It’s funny how in surfing, even if you can barely remember someone’s name, you still consider your “water buddies” friends.
And that’s completely my fault, because they’ve both told me their names on more than a few occasions. But I can barely remember what I did yesterday let alone someone’s name.
I was going to walk down the beach for some alone time, but my longing to escape the world for a little bit became a social escape, and I joined the two in some slightly wind blown, but really shapely and fun waves. We talked, rode, talked, flew, talked, and danced. And a little mental refreshment had never felt so good. Literal ocean therapy.
