Trares
The wave broke with ferocity, collapsing into a mass of sea foam and spray.
For a second, there was nothing but legs and a gangly arm sticking out of the wash. Then, up popped a goggles boy with a huge smile on his face.
Anthony discovered the joys of the ocean this week. The Trares’ Summer of Ridiculousness continued, as we took a short trip to South Carolina with my in-laws. While my wife and I had done our anniversary trip, just the two of us, we wanted Anthony to get a vacation as well.
Myrtle Beach has special significance to my wife and her parents, and it was doable for everyone’s schedules.
Leading up to the trip, Anthony could barely contain himself. He asked about the pool at our hotel, what kinds of food we could get, and how close to the ocean we would be.
That final point was especially important to him. We had taken him to the ocean before; we had actually come to Myrtle Beach when he was 2 years old (though he doesn’t remember much of it) and we’ve been to the beach in Florida.
But this time would be different. Anthony could swim now, opening the potential of donning his goggles and exploring life under the water.
He could splash in the saltwater and look for seashells.
Despite some mild concern about sharks — which I didn’t help after suggesting watching “Jaws” the week before leaving — he was overall very excited.
That excitement was fully realized on the first day we arrived. We had barely even unpacked our suitcases when Anthony was clamoring to go swimming.
I suspect the relaxing lounge chairs and crisp water in the pool would have been more to our group’s speed starting out. But there was no resisting the call of the ocean for Anthony.
I can relate to the feeling. Growing up, I would much rather frolic in the sea than go to the pool (although I wouldn’t turn down a pool trip, either.) The first time my family took us to the beach, I constantly went from the ocean to the pool, back and forth, again and again. By the third day, the saltwater-to-pool water had taken such a toll on my poor eyes that I had to spend an afternoon in the condo resting them.
So I understood Anthony’s excitement.
When we ran out onto the hot sand, eager to satiate our saltwater craving.
But Anthony was in for a surprise. Unlike the Gulf beaches he’d been to before, this was the Atlantic Ocean — a little wilder and wavier.
The force of the waves caught him off guard, tossing him backwards as they rolled in. At first I was concerned, rushing over to him to make sure he was OK. But I had no reason to be worried; he couldn’t have found it more fun.
From that point on, it was hard to get Anthony out of the waves. He wanted nothing more than to wade out to where the breakers were, riding the cresting water using nothing but our bodies.
“How did you never tell me about body surfing!” he exclaimed early on.
We would scanned the water, looking for the waves we thought would be best. And over and over again, we’d get whooshed under, popping up in a fit of laughter.
There’s many, many things I’ll remember about this summer — and it’s still only about half over.
But at the top of the list will be seeing that boy tumbling around in the water like he was in a washing machine, only to beg to do it again and again.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to editorial@therepublic.com.
