Never Too Old
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Thisisnotreal Thisisnotreal
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Short Story
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2009
The man stood six foot tall; he was broad in the shoulders and narrow at the hips. His greying hair fluttered in the warm summer breeze. His slightly tanned face glistened in the clear sunny day. The man squinted out towards the crashing waves, with clear blue eyes. His slightly wrinkled face showed no expression at all, yet his thick, grey eyebrows suggested that the man was in deep thought.
The man stood before the shoreline, his large feet were slightly planted apart in the cool, wet sand. Slowly he walked out towards the water, his feet leaving a trail printed in the slush at the shore of the beach.
Wading even further out from shore, the man held a reasonably large, fluorescent surfboard. When the cool water was well above the surfer’s broad chest and it was no longer possible to walk, he pushed himself up upon the surfboard. Lying down, he continued to move further away from shore.
The sound of many sea birds could be heard as the man’s masculine body pulled him through the deep blue water. For a small length of time the man sat on his weather worn surfboard, the waves slowly rolling underneath him. Licking his dark, cracked lips, he listened intently to the sounds of the sea.
While waiting for the perfect wave the elderly surfer was surprisingly warm, even though the water was well below 15 degrees.
It was time, the surfer stood quickly upon his board, his new, black wetsuit stretched accordingly to his movements, his strong biceps flexing underneath the tight wetsuit.
As the wave returned the man to the ever quickly coming shoreline, he smiled with pearly white teeth and thought to himself. ‘For a reasonably old man, such as myself, I think I’m livin’ life’.