14 – Grit

Crash, tumble. The bitter taste of seawater fills my mouth and nose.

Old man sea plays rough, but I’m not quitting.

Go back, get ready. Feel the wave forming, try to catch it at its birth.

I keep my stroke in rhythm, try to be one with the crest. Get up, get up! Ride the crest just as it forms.

The wave tosses me… crash, tumble. My body feels like dirty laundry in heavy cycle. I won’t give up.

Crash, tumble, try again. I can hear old man sea laughing at my stubbornness. I laugh right back.

Crash, tumble, try again. The sun gets low… old man sea has won this round.

I pick up my board and turn to face old man sea. He knows I’m not defeated.

“–Tomorrow.” I say.

Holding my board, I walk away.

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