(✓) 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 • [𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒚]

one.

The waves crash loudly against the sprawling California coast. The water begins to sparkle in the dim light of the rising sun. Not a soul stirs along the beach at this time on a Sunday morning.

I sit up on my surfboard, feeling the gentle ripples of the ocean waves splash against my legs. My dad sits on his board next to me. We watch the sunrise in the distance, waiting for a big wave to bring us back to shore. My hair is pulled into a ponytail, slicked against my back from the waves I've already ridden this morning.

"This view never gets old," I say.

"Never. Especially when I get to experience it with my beautiful daughter," my dad replies.

I splash a handful of water at him. He's doing it again, getting overly sentimental when no one asked.

Dad used to be in the Marine Corps. When my sister Rory and I were little, he was deployed to Afghanistan for three years. After that, he joined the Reserves and decided he was going to be the world's most involved dad. He came to every school play and recital, and he even joined the PTA.

Now, Dad spends his mornings trading stocks to make a living, that way he gets to spend his afternoons with us. And every Sunday, he takes me to the beach to surf and watch the sunrise, followed by a hearty breakfast at the Pancake House. It's our own little tradition, just the two of us. 

"Jeez, don't be so sappy, Dad," I giggle.

"I know, I know. But your last year of high school starts tomorrow. You're my baby girl."

"Rory is your baby girl."

"You're my big baby girl, then," he clarifies. He splashes some water back at me. I squeal, the water cool against my face even as I sit in the middle of the ocean.

"Well, I'll always be your big baby girl. And we'll always have our Sundays, even when I go to college. It's not like I'm ever going to leave all of this behind." I gesture with both arms at the magnificent ocean that surrounds me. I can't imagine ever living anywhere but here.

"That's what I love to hear. Now, come on, let's not waste the morning yapping away. Here comes a big one, get ready."

In perfect sync, we lie flat on our surfboards and begin paddling through the moving water. Left, right, left, right. I feel the back of my board begin to rise, and the waves tickle my toes.

I leap up smoothly onto my feet and steady myself, knees bent and arms out. The wave soon towers over me, meters above my head and climbing. I'm not scared of a little wave. I've done this plenty of times before.

The dark, blue wave envelops us in an ominous tunnel. After a few moments, we emerge unfazed. My dad and I expertly glide across the water to the shore. Laughing with a rush of excitement, we high-five.

"Just like riding a bike," I say confidently, as if I've ever actually learned to ride one.

We turn around to look at the morning sun once more. It has risen completely above the horizon. A new day has officially begun.

"Ready for breakfast?" My dad breaks the peaceful silence. He looks over to me with his dark green eyes.

"Ah, yes. The Pancake House doesn't like to be kept waiting," I reply with a smile. I pick up my board and loop my arm around my dad's, squeezing tightly. As much as I want to start the next chapter of my life, I'm not ready to let go of the life I've lived for seventeen years.

•••

The electronic school bell rings loudly, letting students know that lunch has started. We all begin packing our bags and getting out of our seats, not willing to listen the last few seconds of the teacher's announcement.