By Stacy Alderman
She’s already gone when I wake up too early on a Saturday. I tell myself she’s at the gym or out for a jog – that our fight last night wasn’t bad enough to make her leave. The sun is bright and warm in the flawless blue expanse above the barrier islands. I have a hard time believing that it’s not mocking me. Brutal week at my 9-5 —check. Rough week at the side hustle —check. Fight with my girlfriend, who I plan to propose to soon —check.
I need to cleanse and rejuvenate and only the sea will do.
Slide into my board shorts and leave the house without breakfast. Wrestle my surfboard from the rafters, stow it haphazardly in my Jeep. The two-minute drive to the beach is too long, but the sand beneath my bare feet is already warm, welcoming. High tide sends waves crashing onto the shore, their roar the only sound except for the occasional call of a seagull.
Standing knee-deep in the chilly water, I squint against the morning light and breathe in the salty air that is the essence of home. Like most locals, there are days when I take this place for granted, but today I have enough turmoil in my head and in my heart to let the salt and sand seep into my skin, my soul.
I plunge headfirst into a wave, letting the cold shock wake me up fully as I paddle out beyond the breakers. For a few moments there is nothing but the feel of my torso against the board as my hands and feet dangle beneath the surface and my eyes focus on the endless horizon. I let the tide carry me out a bit further, then sit up to face the beach, my breath slowing with the rhythm of the rise and fall of the ocean beneath me.
When the first strong wave comes rolling up, I lie down and paddle with it, timing myself. A barreling force of nature threatens until years of practice take over. I stand, wobbly at first. My heart stuttering for a beat as I think about the enormous force only inches beneath my bare feet. Steady, I ride the wave, weaving in and out of the breakers until another wave curls up over my board. I fall gracefully backwards, letting the water bubble over my head. I float beneath the surface for a moment, suspended in the blue-green sea, until I regain my bearings and pop up for air. Grinning to myself and the sea gods, I climb back on my board and paddle out once again.
The pattern repeats. For over an hour, until my stomach grumbles with hunger and my skin is salty and brush burned by the rough sand. The last wave I ride in is gentle and courteous, delivering me safely, slowly to shore.
The sea has drawn me out, like always. Jostled the worries from my body, and washed me back onto the sand, cleansed and renewed. I jog up the beach with my board tucked under my arm, finally peaceful for the first time in weeks.
Body and soul cleansed–check; perspective renewed–check; love for the sea, love for my girlfriend, renewed–check.
Stacy Alderman's writing has been featured by Heather Christie's Love Notes (71st Street Books, 2024), THEMA Literary, inScribe Journal, Minerva Rising, and several others. She is the recipient of the Children of Steel fiction award (Anaphora Literary 2024) and lives near Pittsburgh with her husband and two defiant rescue dogs. When not writing or reading, she's probably swimming or (dreaming about) traveling. Find her online at www.StacyAldermanWriter.com.
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