Alone in a Sea of Weeds

Or, I Should've Been Here Earlier

I lingered over breakfast and yesterday's Sunday NY Times, arriving at the beach later than I should have. The waves near the pier were mostly thumping closeouts, but there were a few shoulders a bit farther north. I made the drop on a head-high left but my pleasure in that didn't last long as the wave detonated. I had to straighten out and bailed backward into the whitewater, which surely would've given me a wedgie if I hadn't been wearing a wetsuit. There were a few more drop-'n'-smashes as I scoured the horizon for one of those elusive faces and enjoyed the warm sunshine on another summery day.

Rare shoulders became fewer and fewer as the tide dropped out without me attaining any. The half dozen surfers in my vicinity left one by one, until I was alone in a sea filled with little pieces of seaweed.