Moments

My fingers slide down the side of my board as I dive under the foaming white water.  The water is dark and cool as a wave roars over me. My body erupts onto the surface and I power forward over the surging ocean.  My arms ache from paddling all day and my belly stings as a rash forms where the rough wax rubs.  Yet I continue to paddle, my torso screaming with the movement of my board.

A wall of water emerges out of nowhere.  It surges toward me, growing ever bigger.  I spin my board around and paddle like my life depends on it.  I no longer notice the salt that burns my eyes, I just pull myself forward, forgetting everything except for me, my board, and the wave.  The nose of my board dips forward, and foam laps at my ankles.  Then all of a sudden I am a part of the ocean.  I travel up and down the wall of water, getting to know every inch of it.

Time slows when I am on top of the world, everything seems perfect. There are hundreds of other surfers in the water, but in the moment, they don't exist.  It is just me and the ocean. A cool ocean breeze blows through my hair, the turquoise water glints underneath the sun, and the crowds of the beach seem miles away.  This is what I live for.  I go to bed every night with sore muscles and stinging rashes, all for these moments, moments where the pains of life are unknown.

Maya