Experience with expectation

In the world we are engineered to depend on people around us; this innate habit builds up our expectations towards our next move. My story imitates instances such as these, it begins as this: I find my self waiting for a friend who promises he will show up on time for my weekly early-morning surf session.

A friend who has never been a part of this unique experience, as I had, did not know what to expect. After all the metaphorical interpretation about surfing which I candidly threw in his direction, I began to wonder how much sense he would make of them. After all these moments stole hours, even days of sleep away from me at a time when an early morning surf was as important as the first morning cigarette to the nicotine fiend. Needless to say the next morning I was dependent on his impromptu arrival aside my driver seat. I knew the bliss, it was a kiss of an early morning sun on your forehead, the cool breeze sending its pleasure signals up the back of the spine. The gentle crashing waves of energy marching towards expectations of the experienced souls. A time well spent with a brotherhood, I knew he couldn’t understand until he shared my peace and serendipity of such moments.

Herein lies the problem: my expectations were set for this blessed time. The morning sun began it morning rituals slowly piercing our east coast horizon with the all to familiar UV rays, extracting the darkness from the night before. The only people awaking are those who hold promises. The morning is a peaceful time, for peaceful people. I’ve seen the morning people; they are a group of honest individuals: doctors, small business owners, school teachers, the one’s who live to serve and help. Not included in this group are the selfish, my friend.

I am aware of outside pressures, those which are the antagonist of promises, they are the broken promises. But, his promise was different to me, it was a destruction of our shared theatrical experience I had planned in my subconscious the night before.

The time had come, and he was a no show. I went on to enjoy my surf, every waking moment of it. I mean waking, because sometimes the experience is surreal, it‘s hard to tell where my soul stops and the oceans depth begins on these mornings of clarity. And as good as it was, it should have been better, what I felt should have been shared, but the camaraderie was broken. It was incomplete, not because my friend did not show up, but because I would never articulate how it turned out. I still talk about that morning, and he still denies the promise.