the lone surfer… unfinshed… part six
18 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
The next morning it is the thought, the promise, of the lone surfer that pulls me from my bed. The weather has turned overnight and everything is grey, a fine drizzle is constant and there is a distinct chill in the air. I pull on a hooded sweater and jeans and head out. The streets are deserted so early on in the morning, all the holiday makers opting for a lie in and probably hoping the weather will brighten up by the time they make it out of their hotels. I walk to the beach quickly and am there early, before the surfer. I don’t like to be before them, it makes it seem like I am waiting for their arrival, which I am, but they don’t need to know that. I sit on the sand, find an area which is dry-ish and pull my hood up over my head, looking out to sea, my eyes go blurry, lose focus, and it’s hard to see where the sea ends and the sky begins. I can hear the gulls squawking and calling to each other over head. The beach is empty save for me and a jogger out in the distance, wearing red. I sit and I wait. I don’t have to wait for long, on time the lone surfer
arrives, I hear the low grumble of their truck first, the bang of the door, I don’t even turn around so sure it is them. A couple of minutes and then they enter my vision from the right, running across the sands. They don’t even hesitate, they just run, jump, straight in, swimming out a fair way, strong confident strokes, taking them someplace else. The waves seem to acknowledge their
presence, swelling, growing, moving forwards, faster, and higher. The surfer, as they do everyday meets them head on, moves with them so gracefully, daring them, spurring them on. I could watch forever.
When finished, they emerge from the sea; they seem slightly breathless, pause for a moment and rest their board in the sand, standing it upright. They look out to where they have came, slightly bent, hands on their knees. The mist has lifted and the sun is slowly trying to make an appearance. It’s hazy but defiantly there, the clouds at its
edge are starting to melt away. The surfer stands up straight and stretches. I wonder fleetingly what they are thinking about, I couldn’t for one second imagine, is it a person that hovers at the edge of their mind, a philosophical wondering or something as simple as a breakfast decision? I have no idea; I don’t know them at all. The thought surprises me, I am shocked for a moment
that I don’t know the lone surfer, the person I set my watch by, the person I make a date with everyday, they are in fact a stranger to me, and I to them. I blink a few times and notice the lone surfer is gone, vanished whilst they occupied my thoughts. I turn quickly and make out the truck just turning away from the jetty, the low grumble of the engine stirring the morning air. I lie back on the sand; it feels cool and wet through my clothes. I dig my fingers into the small grains and push deeper against the sand. It’s cold. Opening my eyes they blur against the bright white of the sky and tiny floaters dance in front of my vision. I wonder what today will bring, just for a moment considering what it would be like to have a purpose, a direction, a place where I was needed, where I would be missed if I didn’t appear at a set time. I don’t want to move, to leave the beach, all of a sudden I have no energy and my body feels like lead. I lie there, and the lone surfer, I know is somewhere else, starting their day.
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