the winter waves
Whenever possible, I like to spend New Year’s Day at the coast. This year I went alone. The forecast said rain, but I didn’t see a drop all day except during the drive. I walked the beach in the opposite direction of Haystack Rock to avoid the crowds. Even on this cold day, people scattered the coastline, and I wanted to swim without drawing too much attention. It’s my tradition. No matter how cold it is, get in the ocean. Even for a minute.
I found a log where I could tuck my clothes and began to undress. It was about 50 degrees and not too windy, but still the cold sand shocked my feet as soon as I removed my shoes. Wearing only my swimsuit and a beanie, I jogged toward the water. The waves were retreating deep into the sea and then reaching out again, farther than you’d expect and so catching people by surprise, soaking their shoes.
My feet numbed in the shallow waves that drew back into the ocean, and I braced myself for their return. I scooped water onto my arms and legs, soaking my face and every bit of exposed skin. When the waves came rushing back, they were frothy white and up to my thighs, pushing me backward. I could have lost my balance if I didn’t brace myself, but I stood firm, feet invisible beneath me and losing all feeling. I breathed in, gazed up at the winter sky, and trudged back to dry land for my towel, refreshed.
It was afternoon and I was starving, so I ducked into Mo’s for clam chowder and returned to the shore for sunset an hour later. Friends and families gathered, marveling at the fiery sky and taking pictures. We mostly kept our distance from the waves. It was even colder now and everyone was bundled up. Then something wild happened.
A large wave emerged and two girls with no time to flee got soaked up to their knees. The wave kept coming, so the whole crowd—at least 30 of us—began to walk backwards faster and faster as the water rushed up the whole beach. We only hoped to stay dry. The waves were moving so fast that more people started to run, until everyone was laughing and fleeing toward the shrinking strip of dry land that diminished into foam. The ocean swallowed most of the shore, pushing us nearly back to the parking lot. Someone fell over a log and we helped her up. I felt compelled to kiss her knee. But mostly we were laughing. I was there alone but not alone. We were all divine, all fragile, all together in a moment that nobody would photograph.
