Why is embarrassment so hard for me to deal with, and why can I not even spell it? I blame (not the right word, but yes it sort of is) my Father, who puts image before everything, his own physical well being, and mine. I was raised to look nothing less than perfect, never limp even if you only have one leg.
These were my thoughts as I looked down the steep sandy embankment towards the gathering waves… We were doomed, If not with the next wave, then the one after that. Or the one after that. Or we could run back, to where there was no water and we were doomed anyway.
After running like a rat through a telephonic maze trying to figure out how to find a real person, to give me the assigned solution to my extremely human problem, I got up and figured that this was a wash. Then, I sat back down with a few sips of cold, milky coffee because I realized that I just don’t feel right, or ready to start my day, without this.