Ahhh ... perfect

The sky is gray. Not a light gray, but the color of fresh cement. The wind is blowing like it will never stop. I can feel a light rain. A storm is coming. The smell of salt is strong in the air, but not pungent; it's more relaxing than anything. I frown in concentration regardless.The waves are colossal and spaced brilliantly: about a bus length between each one. One crashes, and I feel the cool rush of water over my feet. As soon as the ocean is as deep as my ankle, I launch it. As fast as my feet will carry me, I run alongside my projectile. The next wave is about to hit. I jump, cling to my missile now kissing the water. I brace for the wave and pull up, turning it into a ramp. I'm flying over the water: a falcon hunting for its fish. And in those few seconds, I think to myself: "Why can't every day be like this: beyond compare, and full of bliss?"