I was raised by a surfer. Loving the ocean, in a way, felt like my birthright.
Some of my most cherished memories are of my dad taking me to the famous breaks on the North Shore to check the waves and reminisce about the good old days. In these moments I saw another part of him, one that was happy and free. He was home.
I caught my first wave when I was 15. My dad pushed me into it and I will never forget the feeling and what the board looked like gliding on top of the water. With the diamond head off in the distance, it felt like magic. I was free, I was home.
My love affair with surfing should have begun there, but shortly after my life took a different path. I found out I was pregnant at 15, with twins. Surfing, along with a big part of my childhood was put on hold. For 15 years.
I used to say I wished I would have learned to surf as a young girl. Now I understand that I needed to go through the process of learning to surf as an adult to fully appreciate what it means to me. The fear, the failing, and getting the courage to try over and over and eventually finding myself in the process. Find the part of me that I thought I lost so long ago. To feel that pride and sense of accomplishment that nobody can take away. They say love is sweeter the second time around. My first wave was at 15, but I learned to surf when I was 30. The ocean is my home, and surfing gave me the freedom to be me. I am a #womanofthewater.