Doing The Wave

There is something perfect about catching the ideal bodysurfing ride.  No board, no flippers, just you and the ocean.  You temporarily cede all control to the sea.  If you catch the wave just right you have this outstanding moment of weightlessness as you blast toward the shore.  If you catch it wrong Mother Nature bounces you off the bottom, or worse yet, leaves you behind like a missed bus. 

These days, I don't body surf often.  My beach days mainly consist of trying to keep Grace upright in the waves and trying not to spill soft serve on my shirt.  Grace, at 8 going on 18, acts like a master of the ocean, but doesn't yet possess all the skills.  Her bravery in the surf constantly challenges my overprotective instincts.  I want her to stand close enough to grab in an emergency.  She wants to jump over, under, or through every single wave.  No longer is splashing in the last, late ripples of surf good enough for her.  She wants to swim and float where it's deeper.  If I didn't reel her in, sometimes literally, she'd be halfway across the Atlantic.  As we clash over what is safe, I realize what every parent does at some point: you have to give up some control as your kids get bigger.  Holy crap, it isn't easy.  In our battle of wills, I am teaching her to respect the ocean, and she is teaching me to lighten up.  Even though I admire her willingness to venture further from the shore, I still cringe internally during that nanosecond when she disappears as she plunges through a wave.  It's a tiny bit scary and a tiny bit exciting.  Like riding a wave.

Yesterday, because Amanda was able to go to the beach with us, I had a little Grace-free time in the ocean. I didn't plan on riding any waves; like I said, I don't body surf often anymore.  I floated along for a while, bobbing in waves that, while not huge, were certainly good enough to ride.  I watched a bunch of bros constantly miss rides because of poor timing.  I watched tourists repeatedly get knocked ass over teacups because, well, they were morons.  When I finally had enough, I decided maybe the old-timer could show them how it was done.  I grabbed the next decent wave and hoped for the best. 

At this point in the story, which are you expecting and/or hoping happens next?
A: The wave dumps me on my head causing me great pain.
B: The wave blows off my trunks causing me great embarrassment.
C: I harness the power of the sea Aquaman-like and ride the wave in style.

If you picked A or B, you can eat it haters.  I crushed it. In fact, had I known how awesome the ride was going to be, I would have thrown the bros a wink, and a "Dudes, watch and learn" before catching the wave.  Instead I settled for the sweetest wave ride I've had in a decade.  As I triumphantly rocketed all the way to the shore, I imagined the chorus of bro cheers and the admiring nods of appreciative beachgoers awaiting my landfall. Alas, as I emerged from the surf like some sort of swollen sea monster, shirt clinging to my dad bod in all the wrong places, there were no cheers, no one paying attention.  Not even my wife and kid.  That's okay, though, because had Grace seen it, she'd probably ask to ride the big waves too.  And that is something I'm definitely not ready for YET.