The Day
My Plaything
Was a
Surfboard
Kathleen Wilhoite
T
he one and only time
olds. I can still picture him
hoping he wouldn’t find out
my pop took me out
jumping over the boulders
my secret. I’d never been
surfing, I was six
from our lawn onto the beach
able to navigate the feel of a
years old. He had me use
with the long board under his
wave—when it was going to
the long board, said it was a
arm.
peak, crash, tube, or whatever
slower ride. Long boards are
gigantic compared to six-year-
I was thrilled and a little
the hell else it does. I hadn’t
scared to hang out with him,
a clue. Shit, I was six. I was