Nipples of Fire

Today was the first day I've surfed in about a month, and the first time in 3 or 4 years that I paddled out in trunks only. The waves weren't much, but the temps felt like the proverbial bathwater. I'd forgotten how liberating it is to be out in trunks in warm water, feeling free and unencumbered by a neoprene straitjacket. I'd also forgotten the exquisite joy of nipple rash, and the zing you get afterward in the shower when soap and hot water rush to the synapses the same way that lemon juice loves a paper cut. All day, rushing from task to task, the reminder of the morning's waves was right there, and with every tender rub against the inside of my shirt, I was reminded that it's a special treat to be a surfer.