SoCal Summer

Chapter 12: Accidental Plans

    Spectators cheered wildly as Stella Slater flawlessly executed an aerial trick off the top of the wave. She was definitely a crowd favorite, as evidenced by the mass of people at the shoreline who came out to watch her surf despite the threat of a storm looming overhead. A strong wind was blowing in from the west due to the changing pressure system, creating larger than average waves on the open water.

    Eleven year old Emily was transfixed as as Stella glided effortlessly through the barrel of the wave, fingers brushing the side of the water. Emily envied Stella's talent and grace, and wished she could be half as skilled as her some day. Her parents promised her that she could learn to surf when she turned twelve; she hadn't learned yet because her father was incompetent on a surfboard and her mother was always traveling. So, for now all she could do was watch wistfully wait impatiently for her twelfth birthday to come.

    Dark clouds cast a shadow over the beach, but despite the lack of sunshine, the air was unusually warm due to the humidity. The strong gusts coming off the water were the only reprieve from the sticky hotness. Weather forecasts were predicting a storm to hit the coast by late afternoon, but it was only mid morning so surfing officials declared it was still safe to be out on the water.

    They didn't realize how wrong they were.

    A clap of thunder echoed from off in the distance, an omen alarming that the storm was coming early. Stella was still out on the water, but she only had a minute left in her surfing run so she did not paddle in, but instead continued to ride her wave and perform tricks to increase her score.

    Suddenly, the sea turned violent. It was as if the sky had opened up, and rain began to pour down. A strong wind pushed against Stella, causing her to wobble. A choppy wave blindsided her, throwing her into the ocean. Emily watched in horror as Stella slammed into the water and and was immediately pounded down by another massive wave. Her head did not reappear at the surface.

    "MOM!" I screamed, awaking with a start. My body was covered in a sheen of sweat and my heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I wiped away wetness from my cheek and realized I had been crying in my sleep.

    I sitting up, I placed my head in my hands, weaving my fingers through my hair. I took deep breaths in and out, trying to calm my still racing heart. I didn't have this dream very often anymore, but I could take one guess as to what, or rather who, had triggered the memory.

    In August, it would be six years since day my mom had died. She died doing what she loved, but that didn't make hurt any less. This same dream reoccurred for months after her death, torturing me with reliving the moment over and over again. It was difficult to deal with the loss of a parent at such a young age, but while I was grieving I was also angry. I was angry that the surf officials had allowed her to go out on the water despite the weather conditions, and angry at the rescue boat for not reaching her before she drowned. But I realized that in order to heal I needed to stop being angry with what happened in the past because no amount of anger could ever change it. Once I made peace with myself, I finally started to return to normal.

    But every now and then this damn dream would pop into my head, and even though I was past my grief, it was still unpleasant and left me feeling drained for days after. It was kind of like picking at the scab of an almost healed wound; it wasn't as painful as the original injury but it still stung and bled.

    Looking at the clock, I realized it was only three in the morning. Staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, I willed myself to go back to sleep because I had to be up for work at eight and I needed all the rest I could get. That was only wishful thinking. Sleep never came.