A morning worth remembering.
Yesterday a large swell hit the coast. I woke up early (without an alarm!) and was one of the first handful of guys to paddle out at my local spot. It was a tough paddle, chest to head high, and unfortunately my leash broke before I made it into the lineup.
I had only the one board, and returned home an hour after I left. It was disappointing as my first return to the water in a couple of months.
Fortunately, this morning was an opportunity for redemption.
I was out the door before 7am with a backup board and a secure leash to find a surface of pure glass. A harbor seal goofed around within ten meters of me. Three California brown pelicans maintained their formation a few feet above the water, gliding down the break until they passed directly overhead.
The waves were smaller but glorious. The sunshine made a truce with the cold water. Waist to chest high, still plenty of closeouts, but the sand bars and rising low tide had conspired to offer some barrels that were perfectly sized for bodyboarding, both lefts and rights.
It was a day of abundance, a short period swell with frequent sets at an uncrowded sandy shore break. I returned home with enough time to shower, make breakfast, and then head out on a daddy date.
My daughter is a serious student, and she's at the stage of study habits where her answer to complexity or stress is more time. Test coming up? She'll spend a few more hours on her homework. This means her time is more academic than I recall mine being in high school.
Sometimes that can create family tension. We want to watch a movie together on a Friday night, it takes forever to come to a consensus, and then she's unavailable because she's trying to throw time at an upcoming test in advance.
This was the case this past Friday, and I let it steal my joy instead of accepting that study time was her current priority and moving on. I overreacted and it soured an otherwise good evening.
So I was eager to make it up to her this morning at our scheduled daddy date. A couple of times a month, she saves me a weekend morning and we drive to a local independent coffee house that reminds me of my favorite college haunts.
We grab our iced espresso drink, a perfect concoction called the Morning Hammer, and walk a few blocks to the beach where we take off our shoes, warm our feet on the sand, and watch the dolphins and surfers do their thing.
It turned out better than I could have expected. Our time together was unguarded, full of laughter, punctuated by her wry humor.
The sand was warm between our toes. We collected tiny, colorful clam shells and she decided she would assemble them into a bedazzled shirt for her mom.
As we walked back to our parked car and passed the coffee house, I inquired if she'd like me to take her photo in front of the giant banner of an open-shirted Nicholas Cage, chest resplendent with hair. She said no, but agreed to allow me to take one on the day before she leaves for college.
I'm going to miss her terribly. She's the best parts of me, only better.