On the Beach

I was reminded of an incident that happened so long ago I am not sure if it happened where I think it happened, but does that matter? Nope.

This is one of my favourite pictures of Mom and I, from who knows when, certainly when I was a lot younger. A lot younger.

However, I do remember it was taken at the New Jersey Boardwalk. We were visiting my very generous brother, who was always giving us vacations to places in the United States. I am very grateful. Thank you!

Apart from the fabulous salt water taffy, the million and one things to see and do at the Jersey shore, there is, of course, the ocean.

I am a certified water baby, so my main delight is in H2O, thus I liked to be near the ocean or in it. I can’t remember if this was my first encounter with the ocean, not my last for sure.

I think it was here that I was wandering along the edge of the water, ankle deep, and then gradually, got more interested in going deeper, and deeper and . . .

I got sucked up by a wave that was quite a bit bigger than myself, and pulled under. I got caught in the undertow and violently spun over like a jelly roll and spit out, like some bad tasting fish, hurled up on the beach, and deposited, while absolutely no one took notice. In fact, people walked around me, quite possibly, even over me.

I was quite battered and it took days to expel all the salt out of my ears, and elsewhere.

I was admonished to turn into the next wave that over powered me, but to tell the truth, I never went back in the ocean again. I’ll walk on the beach, maybe get my toes wet. That is enough.

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