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"Mom, will you go in with me?" she asked.

"Oh, honey," my friend sighed. "I haven't been in the ocean in a long time. Why don't you go in with Mona? She's a great body surfer. She'll teach you."

My friend's daughter was quiet. As she stood there on the sand, her arms folded across her chest, I could see the uncertainty on her face. She liked me, but she also didn't know me that well. Would she feel safe? On the other hand, her mother and I were close, like sisters. Surely she could trust me. "Come on," I said, holding out my hand, smiling.

She took my hand without saying a word and we walked down to the shore.

The water was packed with boogie boarders and the waves were coming in quickly, breaking more forcefully than before. I scanned the ocean until I found a less crowded spot for us to wade in.

"Just hold on to me and don't let go," I told her, as we began pushing our way out through the waves. "You'll do great." She nodded and gripped my hand even tighter.

I grew up around beaches, and I can't recall ever being afraid of the ocean as a young girl. But I soon realized that for my friend's daughter, this was more than a casual swim. Coming out here, testing herself in an environment she didn't know, was a rite of passage for her -- one she was determined to master.

As the strong waves rushed toward us, she listened to my every word, followed my every instruction, her young sweet face focused and intense. She gripped my hand hard when we jumped over the waves and bobbed around on the foamy surface like sea gulls, until our feet securely touched bottom again. I explained to her how the waves form patterns, and how to recognize them. I taught her how to know when to dive under a wave, and when to leap over it. I could see that she was frightened at times. "Are we going over this one?" she'd say in a tight high voice. "Under? Under?"

Once, when she tried to push up over a wave too late, the sea crashed over her, sucking her down. When she burst back up to the surface, she was gasping and on the brink of tears.

"Are you OK?" I asked. "I'm sorry. Sometimes that happens to me, too." "I'm OK," she nodded bravely.

I glanced back towards the shore and saw my friend. She was watching us. "Oh, god," I thought grimly, "she's going to think I'm drowning Mary Ellen."

When she was comfortable enough in the water, I had Mary Ellen watch me body surf, then I explained what to do. I told her how to watch the approaching wave and that when it was shaped like a crescent moon and straining to break, she should begin to swim furiously and take off. At first she couldn't get the timing, her muscular arms slicing the water too soon or too late. But she refused to give up. Finally, after many tries, she nailed one.

When the two of us finally staggered out of the water, you would have thought we'd swum the English Channel. There, amid the sea of beach umbrellas, blankets and coolers, were my friend and her son and my two kids. They were on their feet, clapping and cheering.

"You did it!" my friend beamed, wrapping a towel around her dripping, shivering daughter, who smiled shyly. "That was terrific!"

When I realize that one of my clearest memories of our last family vacation was of an ugly incident over dinner at a hula show, I am at peace with our wholesome, gal outing to the beach. We did it. It was terrific.

We may even do it again.
salon.com | Sept. 27, 1999

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