Riding High On The Waves Of Life (#124)

I sit at my station in the beach store. Computer screen before me.  Phone to my ear. Taking yet another reservation.   At the same time, waiting on yet another store customer.  Weary.  In a funk. Another busy Friday afternoon.   Already one long, tough week.

A tall, pale-complexioned man walks in. Says I’m here to check in. I say Welcome to Caspar Beach. The greeting sounds hollow to my ears. I try a smile (but don’t feel it) as I ring up his bill.

Giving him his car tag and campground map I look into his eyes. Something there tugs at my heart. Helpless? Resigned? Doomed?

Before I can ponder the mystery any further, he solves it. I have terminal cancer. This vacation is part of my “bucket list.” It’s my first time here. Looks like a nice place.

Willing sudden tears to disappear I give him a genuine smile this time and say You’ve come to a wonderful place. What else can I say to someone who knows that death is imminent. Nothing but the truth!

In the space of a nanosecond, my earlier funk is gone. In its place, the simple awesomeness of being alive and healthy and happy.

The next day I walk to a lonesome, rugged beach unmarked and unknown to strangers and even quite a few locals. I know some people. Living here all their lives; never come to this beach. Don’t even know it exists.

It’s not a friendly inviting place like Caspar Beach with melodious waves lapping the shore, soaring varieties of birds and myriads of sea life, inviting and commodious to all ages and activities.

Virgin Creek Beach is wild, uninhabited, tumultuous. The waves range high, crashing to shore, calling solace to no one, daring only the brave or stupid to enter its waters.

I’m here just because I’m curious, wanting to experience, to savor some alone time.

A lone surfer meanders along the path. Headed for the beach, he wears a wetsuit and carries a surfboard. He’s an older man. Perhaps in his early 60s.

I watch as he walks right up to the thundering waves, lays on his surfboard and begins to paddle out.  Beyond the breaking of the waves.

He sits up on his board surveying the open ocean blue. A mound of water surges toward him. He deftly turns on his board, stands, rides the wave to shore.

We are witness, in so many ways, to the indomitable human spirit. We take it as it comes. Sometimes struggling to stay afloat. Riding high on the waves of life.

Joy! Tin Can Annie

About TinCanTraveler

Born under a wand'rin' star.... living in my Winnebago, traveling the country, explorer/adventurer, photographer, writer, chi master, massage therapist, retired teacher/counselor, work camper. Grateful for the freedom to do it all. Enjoying life's ultimate lessons of trust, respect, and grace. Inhale love; exhale gratitude.
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2 Responses to Riding High On The Waves Of Life (#124)

  1. Sher says:

    What a wonderful heart felt story . lots of analogies too. You are truly a wonder Anne and I am proud to call you friend! Keep up the great writing……..I look forward to them. It always seems just when you think you have had an awful, trying day someone or something comes along and then you realize just how thankful you should be even for the tough days. All my best to you.

  2. Sher ~ Thank you for your very kind and generous praise. I am truly blessed!

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