White Water

I woke up sad. It was around seven - right after my husband, Hank, slipped out to catch an early surf session.  I climbed back in bed after getting a cup of hot coffee and lifted the heavy shades covering the wall of windows overlooking the beach in our vacation rental.  The warmth of the cup brought comfort to my hands as I glanced out at the grey morning. A lone jogger and a flock of seagulls dotted the sandy landscape on the Newport Peninsula.

It’s been a sea of emotions for me these past few weeks. I’ve had great highs and great lows, capped by a shift in my mothers declining health.  Last night, on the porch we chatted with our son’s friend, Michael, who’d taught surfing while he was in college and law school, I mentioned that, maybe, I should get out there in the surf again.

“That first surf lesson I had last week, was the ultimate escape.”

“It’s all about focusing on the waves out there, “ I’d sighed.  “No time to think about anything else, Michael. I want to just not think…”

I put the coffee on the nightstand, opened my Kindle and tried to get into my book. Just then, a wetsuit flew over the railing on the second-floor deck of our room, plopping on the tile floor.

“Heather! Time to surf!” Michael called up.

Hank hurried back upstairs. “C’mon, Heath. Michael’s ready to take you out there with us. Remember,” he said, handing me the suit borrowed from Michael’s wife,  “it zips in the back.”

“Now?!”

“Yep, now,” Hank called back at me as he ran back down the stairs.

The air was cold as I walked down the beach with our son, Allan, and Hank and Michael. So weird to be one of the “guys.” I’m that girl back on the porch on the chaise.

I trust Michael. He’s at one with the water. A surfer his entire life, and a gentle guide, I knew I was in good hands, but I was shaking  - and not from the cold.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Allan said, “Michael’s got you. He knows which waves to take you on.”

Getting out there in the waves was exhausting. Water slapped my face, went up my nose, and in my mouth until Michael told me to keep it closed. “Hold on, Heath,” Michael said, as we popped up over a wave too large for me. Adrenaline rushed as my board smacked down on the other side. “Now, paddle,” he said. “Paddle hard. Past Allan. Past Hank.” Hank, focused on his GoPro camera to capture the moment, nodded. “You’re doing good,” he said, looking up for a quick second from his camera.

Michael pushed me into my first wave. I got to my knees and fell forward. The board zoomed ahead toward the beach.

“Michael, this is too hard,” I said as I dragged myself through the white water.

“You’re ok,” Hank called out. Something about his face gave me courage.

“Ok, I’ll give it another try.”

More rollercoaster rides over waves. Then, finally a break. I sat up on the board. “Ahh, serenity,” I said to the trio.

“This is why I come out here, Mom…” Allan said, across from me seated on his blue board.

“Not for long,” Michael said, turning the board with me on it around. “Here comes another set. Let’s get you ready.”

I fell hard on this one; the board popping up as I tumbled into the strength of the white water. Underwater, I felt trapped, spinning ‘round and ‘round and began to panic just as the wave washed over me.

When I popped up, I was done. “I can’t," I told Michael. "I panicked.” 

“If you relax, it’ll always wash over you,” Michael replied, gently. “It always will. Just go with it.”

“You ok? You done?” Hank asked, swimming toward me.

“One more try. One more…” Michael urged.

“No, I’m done.”

“One more; you can do it,” he said softly, pulling the board toward me.  “Hop on.”

No sooner did the right wave come. “Ready,” Michael said,  “Paddle, paddle…ok, 

Heath, get up now!”

 

Driving home from visiting my mother today, my mind was clouded with fear, 

sadness, empathy and love. I searched to gather myself and my mind drifted 

back to the lesson in the white water … “It’ll be a struggle, don’t panic, though. 

It washes over. And you’re alright.”