End of May

The surf is flat. It has been for weeks. There hasn't been a good swell, wind, nothing, since my camping expedition down at Oregon Inlet in North Carolina's Outer Banks. It all seemed to start when the ocean began showing high bacterial levels at the central and north ends of Virginia Beach. Not only is the water dirty, but there is nothing worth playing on. However, summer is the worst time of year for waveriding on the east coast.

The winds on the bay have picked up. A true western breeze pushing the small yet aggressive swell to the left in my backyard, from a standing-on-the-shore point-of-view.

It's been a rough week. Things fall apart. The heat has brought humidity as well. Then again, I can't complain, as I hit the water by two 'o clock and have been relaxing by the shoreline ever since.

Unwinding. Contemplating. Taking it all in...
Things fall apart, and I've become very adaptive to recovery, but for now, the natural surroundings are shielding me from everything off the beach.

There is a woman in a black bikini just down the dune from me. She looks pleasant, we exchanged the standard waves, and set about our business of absolute nothing. Just chilling. I'll never meet her likely but there was that second of interaction, and it moves on.

We are the only ones on the beach, in what seems miles apart, and we're digging it, in our own personal ways.

The surf beckons and the sun burns through me more. It's time to make that pilgrimage to sea, once again, for redemption, for salvation, for baptism.

Every time I step into the sea, I feel all my sins, anger, and disappointment wash away. Every time I step into the sea, I remember why it is I'm here.

Any day in the water is a good day. It's a credo that will be engraved in my tombstone.