Only when we get there

There is an abandoned house right in front of the bay. On a good day, the waves roll in like a wall of glass, breaking from left to right as it closes out on a pillar of a rock. The sun would set from behind it, and getting barreled in one of its awe-inspiring waves would look as if you were enclosed in a tubular room made of glistening emerald.

I witnessed such a spectacle once. There were just three of us at the abandoned house that day as we watched a friend ride the wave with such grace. It was a spectacular sunset. I have never seen the sun so round before and we sat there till it disappeared, obviously hypnotized by its beauty.

You’d have to be experienced to ride this wave. Your timing must be just right so as to avoid being slammed against the rock. You couldn’t just bail out as you’d like as well because the reef underneath you is quite shallow. Needless to say, I never gave it a go. But just being there, on that magical evening, huddled amongst friends, I felt stoked all the same.

“I wonder if this is paradise?” Mark asked, for anyone who was willing to give an answer.

“Probably is” I answered, eyes still glued to the sun. “Or very close to it” I added.

“I thought so.” Mark said. “It’d be quite sad to leave all this” he continued, after a long sigh.

“Cross that bridge when we get to it” I replied. “Only when we get to it”.

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