It’s a better world when I surf. I paddled out yesterday for the first time here in Florida. This trip anyway. Florida and Fernandina Beach is my primary home. This morning, before surfing, I was reminded of the day that came every year, when my mother would drive us out of the woods, on the Westside of Jacksonville, for our long stay at the beach. It was an annual trip, following winter. We were never allowed to get into the water before May. I was a little kid.
I still have little kid ways. And I’m glad. Those memories and the feeling that I get surfing are free. There’s no debt and no interest to pay. And it’s great owning cherished memories of my mother. Surfing is the best, and really if it hadn’t been for my mother and her love of the ocean, I’m sure I wouldn never have become a surfer.
By the way, my mother only had one traffic ticket in her life; a speeding ticket when when she was about sixty. She wasn’t even going that fast. She did not drive over the speed limit. It always took us a LONG time to get to the beach, but they were good road trips.
When riding on A1A we look up to the flag for our most important weather report. If it looks like this it’s a west wind. And further inspection is required.
West winds make the waves clean, but unfortunately it can make them smaller, little by little. However, we have a bit of a ground swell going on, so I waited for low tide and the waves to push in. I had so much fun surfing, small chest high waves. They were breaking left, off of the sandbar built up by the local pier. It was a tough crowd to be in, because it was kids, but that’s OK, everyone starts somewhere.
The twins were out.
They obviously love to surf too. They charged some good waves.
Then it was back to my surf-mobile and a ride, back to the woods. At least these days, I don’t have to go back to the Westside.
Yes, it’s a better world today.
We’re expecting good waves Saturday and Sunday. Historically, we always have good waves on Easter. Thank you, Jesus.
P.S. One day maybe, I won’t write in my short choppy sentences, telling my story before I run out the door. Maybe one day, I will give descriptions of the water and how it really feels to be in the water and catch waves. And my words will make you feel like you’re right there with me.
P.S.S. One day maybe.