Paddling out

A warm April Sunday afternoon and I am driving to the beach. Since I am still learning, I don’t have to get up early for the good surf.

This week has been so horrible and the thought of lying in the sand for a while brings a smile to my face. I have been going to the same spot all winter and now I am getting to know the lay of the sand. I know where there is a dip in sand as I walk out into the water, so I try to avoid it.


I found out this week, through a series of mean-spirited emails from some former friends, what they really thought of me. I have tried not to let it get to me, but the words are ringing in my ears. “Stupid, her work will never be published. Just a stupid receptionist, she has never earned her money. You live in a crappy house and a crappy neighborhood.” While I know these wholesale generalizations are not true, I also know something else: when under stress, a person’s true character is revealed.

While these things were said with little provocation, it brought up sentiments that I was not prepared for. Here I am really the office manager at my job, and the woman and her husband who said those mean things don’t know that. This woman is also not impressed by me.

I have traveled to Europe quite a bit and have a few nice things, it’s true I live in a modest house in a modest neighborhood. My husband and I have achieved a measure of success but have not been ones to flaunt it. I don’t drive a Mercedes and I don’t live in a big house in the ‘right’ neighborhood. All of this is quite on purpose.

I have never wanted to be that pretentious. We have owned houses in very upscale neighborhoods and stayed there, one thing I have found out is this, and the people that live there are so fussy and they always want everyone to be quiet. In short it’s no fun to live there.

In my neighborhood in Fullerton, with mostly Hispanics, there is always a party going on. Yes, I have to drive slowly since there are tons of children that don’t seem to know that sidewalks are for walking and the paved road is for cars, yet there is life and humor and real people here- something I don’t want to trade for gilded trophy cars.

The fact that this very materialistic woman is not impressed with me is a mark of success. It means I haven’t been ostentatious. It means I have done my job well. No one knows what a fabulous life I lead. They have no idea I host champagne brunches and that my guest are treated to the best brie cheese in the county or that I make a mean Cosmo. I could go on, but I won’t

There is a small crowd at the beach. I walk my board out to the sand and put down my beach bag. This weekly ritual has helped me put things into perspective; I mean what do I really need? My board, my bag, something to read, anything more and it’s just too heavy to carry.

My board is waxed and I zip up my wetsuit. The Pacific is in front of me and I start to walk out. Some of what they said has done its job, it does hurt. Dear God, help me think of a reason to go on, to continue to write and keep sending out the first chapter of my fiction project. In the last few months, I have been getting rejection letters and sending out “Thank-you’s” like a good girl.

I wade out into the water and the endless horizon is in front of me. The water is up to my waist and I put the board down and get on. Then it comes to me; I am going to keep writing to prove them wrong. Admittedly not the best reason, but reason enough.

The first wave hits the board and I paddle over it, a small cold splash of saltwater hits my face and I taste it. The next small wave comes and I keep paddling. Before I know it I’m out past the jetty. Some more water hits the nap of my neck; even that shock of cold water feels good.

It’s not a good day for surf and paddling out over these baby waves is more like putting my board in a big swimming pool, but I’m not here to get big waves. I’m just here to work on my form. Keeping my legs together, centered on the board and strong back, paddle.

I get tired I paddle to the shore and pull my board out. It’s getting late in the day. I take a long, last-look at the ocean before I leave and thank God for such a wonderful view, it’s hard to leave. I’ll be back next Sunday.