Light, Burning Clear

flash

This is the fifth day in a row we traipse down to the shoreline before daybreak. I’d like to say my feet have gotten used to it, but the rocks still feel like broken glass, against my soles.

It all becomes a race the moment we hit the sand, and my chest already burns when the cold shock hits. I throw my arms into it and resist that first big breath.

Water’s choppier than yesterday and I’m figuring out the rhythm when the butterflies drop out and I crest; there it is, the breaking light of day.

That moment is forever.

The board drops and I fall, then rise, belly pressed hard against it. The wave is a sheet of murky glass, hewn to a dangerous edge. Through it, I see the light, burning clear.

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