Lifeguard Station 10

 I stood there, barefoot in the sand. The ratty towel around my waist stuck fast to my salty skin. Those predictable marine clouds rolled in across the sky, muting its blue hues. Although it had been a scorcher, the evening was cooling rapidly. Temperatures change in an instant on these beaches.
   
 Everyone packed up their paraphernalia and headed to the car, but I stood there, transfixed. My thoughts raced. As I looked out to the sun just beginning its descent, I felt the ocean draw me in. The horizon glowed warmly, an enticing flame. Is it safe to swim in the ocean alone? I wonder. The towel clutched hard at my legs.

 
 First born in the family, I am endowed with the inevitable “caution chip,” that part of the brain which says, before any risky venture, “It's not going to end well.” In this moment, the caution chip functioned at optimum capacity. Yet I could not silence the voice inside. It clamored: throw it all to the wind. Live! The breeze kissed my skin beckoningly. The last rays of sunshine stretched over the waters like a glorious golden octopus. The erratically rolling rhythm of the waves drowned every other thought within. I was compelled to respond. As if in liquid form, pure delight coursed through my body, reviving every cell. My heart thumped hard. I ran. My towel a forgotten heap on the shore.

…

 For as long as I can remember, we drove the canyon that led to Zuma every week of those blistering hot summers. The canyon road tightly hugged the tawny sides of the California hills. And I always looked forward to those tunnels. One, two, three. Dark and damp. Perfectly terrifying. They became part of the ritual. Just like Andy’s Sour Punch Straws were part of the ritual. Beach days weren’t the same if Andy couldn’t make it. Never mind that any one of us could have purchased Sour Punch Straws at Walgreens on our way. If Andy couldn’t bring them, we’d rather not have them. Because, really, it wasn’t the canyon tunnels or the Sour Punch Straws. It was the people who infused every moment with significance and meaning. We took pride in our people.
 
 It was always Lifeguard Station 10. In all fairness, we tried to branch out with other Stations, but somehow they each managed to fall short of our expectations. 9 was too crowded. 14 was so wild and uninhabited it might have been a deserted island. 11 wasn’t so bad, except you never knew when the Junior Lifeguards would invade. Like sand gnats drawn to seaweed they swarmed the area surrounding the weather-beaten lookout, and they were just as obnoxious with all their whistling, paddling, and jogging. So we always came back to 10. 10 was our place. Our very own wild haven.
   
That Station held so many memories. Memories of laughter ringing out, echoing the calls of seagulls, memories of the harsh winds and stinging sands we braved under make-shift shelters, memories of singing every line from Les Mis at the top of our lungs. We had the sea to drown out the dissonance. The sea made us brave. This place was a place of meetings and partings. A place where first loves were kindled and where love was lost forever. We had lived life at Lifeguard Station 10. The sand, the sea, the salty air, were our witnesses.

…

As I ran to the sea, each memory rushed back like waves crashing upon the shore. A lifetime of moments merged into one concentrated second. The water awakened my senses. Under the surface, time was suspended. I was enveloped in the cool, familiar embrace of the ocean which brought with it life and joy that coursed through my being. The uncharacteristically clear blueness of the water magnified the sun’s golden light. I noticed everything under that magnification, every drop, every molecule.

That was my last moment at our place. I haven’t visited again. Life has a way of taking us away from the sea.

...

(The magic of moments is that they can be soaked up and kept for safe-keeping in the complex filing cabinet of our memory. Memories imbue moments with an eternal quality. Every so often, when my body aches for the ocean, old friends, and days gone by, I close my eyes, pull out the file, and feel it all again. I can pause and replay. I can linger under the waves. I'm timeless.)