Treasure

Have you ever been digging through your stuff, only to find far more than you were looking for? That box of old pictures had been buried in the closet for years. Flipping through them, I saw that picture of her. Isn’t it amazing how one picture can bring back a flood of memories? Suddenly I was 17 again and decked out in bell-bottom jeans with hair half way down my back. Acid rock was ringing in my ears… Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors… and so many more. Gas was 33 cents a gallon. As good as all that was, the best part was being young, in love for the first time, and more free than I’ve ever felt since. I think everyone remembers their first love and I had yet to feel the pain that love can cause.

It wasn’t much of a car, that ’67 Beetle. But it was our ticket to the open road and tropical adventures. Blastin’ down I-75, the flatlands of Ohio gave way to the rolling hills of Kentucky. The Allman Brothers song “Ramblin’ Man” played on the radio as we rolled down the highway like we owned it. We detoured off I-75 in Tennessee to cruise through the Smokies; a mountain stream running by the side of the road with black bear cubs playing along side it, and with every mile we made new memories.

When we finally reached Florida, it was like some magical land. We hardly had any money so we slept in the car in big hotel parking lots in Daytona Beach, waking up to the sound of tropical birds in the morning. This was paradise; we had almost nothing, yet we felt like we had it all. You know what? We did. It was our playground, two young kids in love with each other, the beach and life itself.

Just south of Daytona near New Smyrna was a small lighthouse. This is where all the surfers went. Exploring the shore, we found a path off the beach, through some trees. A little way down the path, we stopped for a long, tender kiss. The tropical heat of the day was rising, and so was ours. You don’t plan moments like that; so many things were perfect, with a gentle wind blowing through our hair and all of nature to set the stage for our passion.

Back on the beach again and making our way back to the car, we ran into some other kids from Toledo. We all decided to have a “Toledo” party that night at their hotel room. Well, it was the early 70’s and all, so half an hour after the party started the dope smoke was so thick you couldn’t see the other side of the room. It was quite a party I guess, but we didn’t stay ‘til the end of it, slipping out for a walk on the beach. There was moonlight and a breeze off the ocean. As we walked little sand crabs scattered everywhere, and once in a while there would be a little jellyfish washed up. We danced on the beach that night, to the music playing in our hearts.

The next day was my near tragic surfing accident. I didn’t have a board, so I was body surfing. Basically, you paddle like hell in front of a wave, then stiffen up straight, and enjoy the ride. Well, there was a bit of a storm out in the ocean and the waves were getting pretty big. I guess the last one I caught was bigger than I thought, and the next thing I knew it crested and slammed me into the beach. I remember being under water for a few seconds as the wave crashed over me, then as the surf pulled back I rolled over on my back. Soon there was a crowd staring down at me, asking if I was OK. Luckily I was just scraped up a bit and nothing broken. I felt good enough to spend the rest of the afternoon searching for “treasure” washed up by the storm.

Well, it turns out I had my treasure all along. As we walked on the beach, suddenly my girl ran out into the surf, turned and waved. As I clicked the picture, I noticed the rainbow behind her.

Sitting here looking at her picture now, I realize how much it still hurts to remember the day, years later, when the rainbow faded for us…