The slow goodbye...

I could hardly believe it. Andy was saying the waves were good, actually good, and I had the whole day off. It was sunny, and the wind was almost non-existent. What little there was was offshore. A gift like that is hard to fathom. I drove to the pier, and to my surprise, I found about twelve people already out on the north side. Dang. One guy was on the south side, but it wasn't as good there. Karen pulled up then, and she decided to just paddle out there because she had to be to work by ten. That's when I got the call from Andy, saying that he was at the Matanzas ramp, that a left was firing off and it was glassy and green. This is when it hit me again, that these are the last times. I have pretty much decided that I have to go through with my dream, of moving to New Zealand, at least try, because I will always wonder, and regret it, if I don't. So, it is rather like being given a death sentence, in a way. Everything takes on a strange, new significance. I wonder if it is the last time I will ever see certain people again. Because, if I decide to stay, it's a long, long way away, and if my own family doesn't even visit each other in the same state, it's hard to imagine many people traveling halfway across the planet to visit. I mean, I may never come back again. Say those words out loud. It's what some people, who get the cancer diagnosis, experience. And, oddly, it can create an abundance of ... joy. We always think there is tomorrow. Tomorrow is always there, shimmering in that place of hope and wonder. So, when I arrived at the beach this morning, spring billowing in the air, the ocean shining, those three trucks pulled together in the sand, and Andy walking up to me, smiling, well, it really seemed like a moment of true joy, and one that I will surely miss. Then there was the paddling out together, the laughing! We were all smiling, hooting at each other's rides. Glenn got a barrel! Then we had an expression session, where Andy tried Mark's board, and then I tried it, too. Once I was on that fish, I could paddle way out the back with Glenn, who was snagging all the biggest ones. We shared a peak, just endless cutbacks all the way to shore, ridiculous. How we laughed. After a couple hours, we decided to go check the new breakthrough, farther south. What a blast that was. I took out Andy's 6'8" Surf-Tech, and after about two rides, I was begging him to sell it to me. I could not believe how loose it felt, thin and light. Then Bob paddled over, and the day was complete. We surfed until noon, and then all came in together to hang out awhile in the warm sunshine, talking about each other's waves. Joy, that's what it was, alright. Bob said, "Spring is here, I love it!" And, I wondered if it might be my last ...