Expectations

The waves frolicking in the ocean were wild, and the wind just strong enough to get air. Ideal conditions.

"It's your day, Paul," said my dad, thumping me on the back and distracting me from the ocean.

I nodded, my mouth as dry as the sand beneath my feet.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Freestyle portion of the twelfth annual All-State Windsurfing Competition!" boomed a voice.

I swiveled around and spotted the announcer perched on top of one of the lifeguard stations.

"Paul, come on!" called Dad, who was struggling ahead with my equipment. "You're soon to go; you need to get ready!"

I wiped my sweaty palms on the wetsuit that clung to my body and hurried after him, the cold ocean breeze whipping through my hair.

As I stretched, I watched my dad throw glances toward the water every now and then. I, however, kept my back turned. We had a policy - no watching the other competitors. My dad didn't want me to get psyched out.

My dad noticed me watching him. "No pressure out there, okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. How’d the others do?”

Dad shook his head. " 'Member the policy, old sport."

"Right."

I wasn't allowed to ask about others, either. Not that it really mattered. The announcers always made it clear how the other guys did even without me watching, and Dad didn't have to worry about me getting psyched out. I hardly cared whether I won or lost, anyway.

Windsurfing was Dad's thing. He had been a pro when he was younger, and I was raised in southern California's crystal waters. Although I had grown up with it, it just never was my thing. Windsurfing was something I did to keep Dad happy. But sometimes his stupid comments and insistence on useless things, like not watching the other sailors, got me annoyed.

Ten minutes later, I stood on my board, the waves crashing around me as I maneuvered the rudder over each wave. The windspeed was maybe five knots or so – perfect. I moved to the starboard and jerked on the rigging to complete a double forward loop, landing safely above the breaking waves. As I jumped through the waves, my body seamlessly performing the moves I had practiced over and over again, my mind floated to what I could be doing, like playing my guitar or watching Saturday morning cartoons.

I finished my routine and made my way toward the beach, letting the waves drag me back onshore.

My dad was waiting to help me.

“You did fantastic, son!” he yelled. “Absolutely great!”

“Thanks, dad.”

“The All-State Competition has to be yours! That’s the best freestyle I’ve seen in years!”

“Yeah, I feel great about it, too.”

He pulled me into a giant bear hug, wetsuit and all.

“I’m so proud of you, son,” he whispered.

“It means a lot to me, Dad,” I replied, wishing with all my heart that I loved windsurfing as much as I loved my dad.




Notes:
Word Count: 498
Second Place: "Invalid Item"