I used to go to the beach with my father, 

and I laid, three foot ten, on the shoreline

face down to the sand. I learned to do a push up when I used my elbow

hindge to pick myself up. He would be out in the water, waist-high.

But I was little and waist-high was a hurricane, and everytime

my tiny body hit a wave 

I was rolled and tossed with the current, never afriad to be 

pushed back to the shore

I learned to put that push-up motion inside my DNA as a method of surviving by

flowing with the water and

getting a mouthful of California sand everytime

I learned to love being taken aback by the sea, always like a distressed landed fish

gasping for oxygen

I would reach my father and he would give me a pat on the head

"Nothing is impossible as you think it is

even when you're three foot ten, and six years old;

you were built to conquer hurricanes, even if 

it's just the sea."