15 Again

Today I did something I hadn't done in years: I went to the beach to watch surfers surf.

It was different than the days I take my kids to the beach to play in the sand or the days I cram my surfboard into my car to go surfing.

I parked my car, paid the meter and walked down to the sand, tossing off my flip-flops before I headed for the water. The surface of the sand was warm, but as my foot sank in, the cool layers reminded me that summer is behind us.

The waves rolled in and out in a hypnotic rhythm, beckoning me to get closer to the waters edge.

I watched each surfer with his or her unique style of surfing. Although like most, I am "regular footed" (left foot forward), I look for someone with a "goofy foot" stance (right foot forward). The water temperature was a cool 51 degrees and everyone in the water was wearing a full wetsuit.

As I watched, I vividly remembered being 15 and going to the beach with my friends. We would do our hair as if we were going to a party, not the beach.

My friends would never go in the ocean, and I had a hard time keeping my feet on dry sand. I didn't want to be the oddball, so I secretly vowed not to go in the water…this time.

We would lie on our towels talking about our secret crushes at school and who we would "like totally" marry. While they went on and on about our high school quarterback, I thought about my secret crush.

I didn't have a crush on just any boy; I had a crush on a surfer. In fact, he was on the surf team. He was 17 and he was very handsome.

I can still see him, with his bleach blond locks dangling in front of his eyes. A flip of his head and his hair would swoosh to the side revealing his golden brown face.

He was just cool.

I could abstain from the water for only so long, hairspray be dammed. I jumped in, swam and dove underwater as if I was in an enormous swimming pool. I frolicked in the ocean without a care in the world.

When I got out of the water and headed toward my towel, I was greeted with stares of shock and disapproval from my friends. I could almost hear their internal thoughts about how my hair was now dripping wet and no longer perfectly coiffed.

I decided I didn't care; the swim in the ocean was worth the stares and the messy hair.

At 15 I was inching my way to adulthood, craving the freedom that in reality was much more than I could handle.

As I headed back to my car before the meter runs out, I thought about how my life turned out, and I was happy.

I headed home with my memories and I wondered, whatever happened to that handsome boy with the perfect hair.

I really don't know for sure, but I bet he still surfs.