A non-conformist mom teaches her daughter what she knows best...
"What about sharks?" I’d ask even though I knew the answer. I never tired of picturing sharks.
"No surfing at sundown, feeding hours. No surfing alone. Don’t scream or thrash around in fear. The shark’s going to do what it feels like doing, so there’s no use worrying about it." She smiled at me. "You can always try a bop on its nose. Sharks hate that."
I grew up with this knowledge of the rules of the sea. I learned to dive under the biggest waves instead of trying to go over or through them and how there’s a way to gauge a wave as it forms, you can see it on the horizon like a whale coming to surface except it’s the entire line of swells, rising, rising, rising, and then you catch one, speeding down its face with the salt flying in your eyes and the wind and water rushing, crushing, with a sound that’s a roar or maybe that was just me shouting into the fabulous fury.
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