My $1200 Boo-Boo
I grabbed my Bob Marley headphones, my iPod, my Canon, and the camera bag with my extra lens, and headed to the sand dunes.
Down on the beach, I snapped picture after picture of the sun as it was going down. Picture 1… snap, picture 2… snap. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was here in Marina, California… picture 27… snap.
I put the camera down from my eyes for only a split second, but that’s all it took for me to realize that a wave was heading for my feet and I was in for big trouble.
I turned and ran as fast as I could, but it was too late. “Shit, shit, shit,” I yelled to no one in particular since I was the only one in the immediate vicinity. Why is it, when I’m petrified, I can’t come up with something a bit more noble like, “Please, God, save me,” but instead resort to this barnyard word?
The water caught at my feet and sucked me under. I tried to keep my camera dry, but it was no use. I skidded along the sand toward the sand dunes, careening on my stomach so fast, I started to panic.
The camera bag I had been holding in my left hand started to float away. I snatched it and hooked it around my arm. The wave—after an eternity, it seemed—finally came to rest on the shore, but only for a moment; I could feel it tugging at my body. I dug my fingernails into the sand and held on for dear life as the wave went back out to the ocean without me. I did not want my obituary to say, “Marie deHaan—local author, mother, and wife—battled breast cancer for several years, only to be swept out to sea last week…” I was shaken for days.
I’ve since replaced my camera, lens, and iPod. The Bob Marley headphones seem to be the only thing that survived my drama at the beach. Them, and me, of course.
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