August 4 — Swimming in the storm
The summer gale hit quickly and loudly. That morning it had been sunny, but now the sky was pouring and the wind was casting up waves. A glance between the four of us communicated everything.
“Let’s go to the beach!”
Lauren and I had our swimsuits on and we ran out first. Her sisters were just a minute or two behind. The rain was cold and pelting, and we ran into the ocean without stopping, whooping under the tumultuous sky. I swam out to where the waves lifted me several feet up and down and where the breakers were big enough to bowl me over. I squinted my eyes to keep my contacts from being washed out. It was too much to even look into the rain. I felt wild and alive, naked before the elements, thrilled at the ride.
After twenty minutes the rain turned into a soft drizzle and the wind slowed. The surf became tame. We walked back to our apartment — a decision, again, that did not need to be spoken.
“That was definitely the best part of the trip for me so far,” I said. Lauren agreed.
