I breathed in the ocean air’s salty scent as I dug my toes into the moist sand. The sky was clouded over, but all that mattered was the waves. Crashing down upon one another, each massive wave loomed at least five feet from sea level. Some almost twice the height of the largest waves I had ever boarded before, the foamy blue waves were caused by the remains of a hurricane that had traveled along the east coast, and had passed through Maine the day before. There were no gulls to be seen, no tourists with their funny hats and sun screened noses, just dedicated, adventurous body and surfboarders like me.
The wind blew my hair into my face, and made swirls of sand across the beach. My knuckles were white from gripping my board so tight. My dad on one side of me, beaming from ear to ear, Casey on the other side of me, shivering, were no consolation. They were, 1 could tell, as eager but nervous as me. We stepped cautiously into the water as if it were possibly some dangerous chemical and we would never walk again once we touched it. The cold sent shivers all through my body, and caused goose bumps to pop out along my arms and neck. I quickly adjusted to the temperature, and waded further in. There were a dozen other people in the water, and I was the youngest one by far. Most of the others were surfers, and likely more experienced at surfing waves of such climate. I turned towards my dad and smiled, but found no expression when I searched his face. I guessed he was probably still in shock from the instant temperature change, and had not yet adjusted. Suddenly, I heard the noise of a wave about to break, and turned to face my fate. I spun around under water, and sucked in some salty water. I surfaced about to seconds later, spurting to clear my lungs, nearly falling in again with dizziness. I returned to normal soon, as normal as possible for me, and ventured further out further to catch myself a wave.
The surfers looked at me as if I was an eight year old throwing a fit in the mall over not getting three now outfits instead of just two. I was not a cute but annoying child, I was an adventurous pre-teen. I wasn’t commonplace for a day like that on the beach, but looks can be deceiving because I was the first one to catch a wave.
Dragging my feet along the sandy bottom, I caught my first glimpse of it sprouting from the horizon. I watched it as it neared, hopping over the insignificant waves. It grew in record time, and when it towered behind me I paddled and prayed, nearly screaming with fear. The foamy white tip curled, like the upper lip of an overworked businessman while being yelled at by his enraged boss. Many of the surfers just straddled their boards, not taking on the wave of the day. I closed my eyes, the zoomed across the water. I opened my eyes, reached out to the sea green water beneath me, rippling the clear complexion.
I floated on top, and for a few seconds I was a bird, the wind blowing toward me, feathers ruffling, beak upturned, I was the eagle who flew far more victorious than any other had before, without a care in the world, sea, or sky. I achieved what none of the surfer’s expected me to, but even better, I spread my wings and left my eaglet past behind, and in all truth, that means more than any wave, any day.
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