By Sofia Huebner
Wave after wave crashed upon the beach, frothing at the mouth, spitting salt and foam, teasing my eager eyes. A sound so immense that it calmed me, the sizzling ocean spray pulled back the rocks from underneath. The bitter smell of salty air wafted through my nose, leaving my body shivering. I liked that feeling, and that particular smell brought comfort.
My father introduced me to the ocean when he lifted me up and placed me on his ten-foot custom longboard sticky with coconut-scented wax. Adrenaline rushed through my body as we paddled out into the lineup. I lay tense on the nose of the surfboard while my father lay midway between the back half of the board, guiding me through this new adventure. Saltwater spat back at me, covering my face and reaching my tongue; the saltwater stung and made my mouth numb, leaving only a bitter taste in its wake. Envious of every surfer as they embraced the line so smoothly, the ocean so deep alongside.
My lips began to crack dry, purplish blue from the cold. My hands grasping the rails so hard, the feeling of fiberglass, smooth at first, building up to the bumpy ridges of wax sticking to the surface, salt water streaked across my fingertips.
As we swiftly paddled, I could feel the wave start to lift us up, and in seconds, we had dropped in and begun speeding down the line with the untouched curve of powerful tension as greenish-blue water spraying off the sides of the rails. The sensation that had grasped my once frightened curiosity so quickly transformed into a ribbon of euphoric waves, taking my body over.
For the first time, all my worries were gone. Any impugning thoughts outside of nature's swimming pool were dissolved into the vast thickness of greens and blues. As I turned onto my back, I fell into ease, nothing spoken, just the sound of each wave rolling in ahead of us, my favorite sound. The most beautiful shade of gray-blue met my vision once again. My father's eyes.
Those deep dollops of cerulean blue, shown through an inner crater of stone gray, almost reflective, like a mirror tracing a version of yourself back at you. We surfed the winter months together over the next couple of years; I grew up and got older, as did he.
Eventually, this gap of happiness closed out and faded away. My mother and I began to see cancer and chemotherapy's diminishing factors, turning a beautiful, sharp, intelligent soul into nothing but flesh and bones. I later understood why my relationship with the ocean had changed so heavily; the ocean had become a reflection of my father’s memory. It was his eyes, with euphoria no more, life drained out of them so bottomless that showed me there was no coming back.
One afternoon, long after cancer took its course with my father, I watched the waves roll in. I picked up my broken self and entered the water, knowing it would never be the same before grief took its toll, before perspectives changed. At first, it felt wrong, but I knew he would have wanted this, me in the ocean. His eyes showed me a life beyond strength to get me through that day, a feeling I knew would always stick with me. It was now through my eyes, to keep the stoke alive.
Sofia Huebner is a Senior at Dos Pueblos High School in Goleta, California. She has studied creative writing at Santa Barbara City College and attended UCLA’s Summer Art Institute. She loves surfing, playing water polo, and hiking in the Eastern Sierra.
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