And my arms are getting smaller…they might look nicer in pictures, but getting back in the water will look nicer. I also need to work on my pasty white tan. I miss the blistering burn of the sun and the sound of nothing to do but listen to the water. I miss sliding my board diagonally into the car so it fits just right when I close the hatch. I miss floating. I miss wiping salt off my eyebrows. I miss paddling back and fourth until my arms swell. I miss swirling slimy kelp around my foot then undoing it quickly enough before a wave comes. I miss falling asleep on the bench for too long then having to stumble up the trail dehydrated. I miss trying to awkwardly hug Gina while in the water and on boards. I miss having little rock cuts on my feet and my lips splitting from being dried out. I miss scraping wax of my board during a lull. I miss having to make the decision that the ocean is just as clean as a shower. I miss running into people at LBJs. I miss feeling slightly uncomfortable from old men’s flattery. I miss checking wetsand. I miss Mr. Curran telling me he saw my last Saphire wave from his house. I miss walking to the farmers market before my suit has dried. I miss Saff sharing his crackers. I miss having sand in my bed. 

But, I hear tell that it’s flat back home…that mates me feel better. Also, traveling South America is a fairly good distraction.