20. Surfing Buddies

I went surfing two days after Thanksgiving, the conditions were bad. Choppy waves and close intervals, but we managed. My surfing companions were my longtime surf buddy who happens to be the father of my brother’s fiancé, and a new fellow who was along for the ride.

The first few times I surfed with Matt, he refused to let me call him “Mr. ….” insisting on “just Matt.” He also refuses to let me pitch in for gas money, saying I’m a starving college student and should save my dollars for food. We always have good conversations about philosophy, life, love, faith and other worthwhile topics.

Somewhere between my last year in high school and first year in college, I realized that I was friends with my parents. It was a mind trip: something I had never even realized was a possibility, had already became true. It was eye-opening realizing later that year that not everyone is blessed with a good relationship with a parent or parents.

I have always been a little freaked out when teachers or friend’s parents ask me to call them by their first name. I may be mature enough, legally an ‘adult,’ but I find the words unnatural in my mouth. I feel that they deserve the respect “Mr. …” or “Mrs. …” carries, and I don’t want to acknowledge that I am their equal, or suggest that I am.

It was even weirder to me when I realized that I can be friends with my brother’s fiancé’s dad, though it felt a natural progression. He’s a cool dude. We both surf, enjoy coffee, have similar views on life. Why can’t we be friends?

I suppose the older I get, the more I realize how little I know. There is so much in life that is just going to be, with or without my permission.

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