A sparkling mass of teal dances before my eyes, whirling back and forth, somersaulting and cartwheeling, slowly building up before exploding out in a great white spray. All I can manage is to watch, hypnotized. The waves crash down over and over, and I can only think about how I belong out there, dancing alongside them. I belong out there, surfing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to surf. Whether it was adorning my walls with surf posters, stuffing my shelves with beach treasure, or convincing my friends of the coolness of catching waves, I made it clear that I wanted to adopt the surfer lifestyle. One Christmas, my chance had come. I woke up that morning to the sight of a practice surfboard hiding behind the tree, and I could barely contain my excitement. My dream of becoming a great surfer, of elegantly carving through the water and atop the waves, was finally coming true. Or so I thought.…show more content… Unfortunately, my lack of strength, coordination, and all-together athleticism served to be my ultimate downfall. As we were out in the water, propelled by instructors into coming waves, I found that standing up on the board was no painless feat. My efforts would always lead to the same outcome: tumbling headlong into the ocean. Each time, the sting of saltwater in my eyes was equal to the sting of failure. To add insult to injury, my friends surfed with ease, enjoying the experience that I so desperately
