carry the sun

A brunette girl was walking along the beach, wrapped in a grey peacoat and a knit hat pulled over her ears. A cloud of fog was precipitating with her every breath, and she kept rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. It was obvious that Sylvie wasn’t a fan of the cold. You’d think she’d be used to it, coming from a country whose average temperature around this time was only about 3 degrees fahrenheit lower than New Yorks. Of course, if you were to tell her this fact, the only thing she’d point out is that normal people use centigrade as a measure of temperature.

Sylvie wasn’t expecting anyone to be up at this ungodly hour of the day. The only reason she was awake was because somebody in her cabin was snoring and she couldn’t get back to sleep. So, she got up, and decided to see what was going on around camp. Of course, since nobody was up, there was nothing to see. She probably should have thought that through a little more, before pulling on her boots to go have an early morning adventure. She could’ve gone and woken up her best friend, Sloan. But what was the point of forcing anybody else to wake up. Sometimes she was too nice of a person.

At some point in Sylvie’s meanderings, she found herself standing on the beach. She wasn’t too mesmerized by the sunrise, after all, they happen everyday. And in most cases, she would’ve continued on her merry way. This time, she noticed that someone was in the water. She watched carefully, (and squinted a bit, because he was awfully far away) as he stood up onto his surfboard and caught a wave. She was expecting him to fall off, and it looked like he was expecting it too because he made an excited exclamation as he carried through. “Han er skør. Fuldstændig vanvittig.” Sylvie breathed to herself, momentarily forgetting that she was speaking her native tongue. She usually talked to herself in Danish. After all, her thoughts were in Danish, she often swore in danish. She took every chance she got to use her first language. English was confusing and she often forgot the words to the most random of things. German was okay, but the words were too similar and she often found herself slipping back into Danish.

Anyways, Sylvie was somewhat impressed that someone was actually braving the cold waters. It must’ve been below 20 degrees fahrenheit , sorry, below -7 degrees celsius. Anyone who could withstand that deserved a medal, or at least a cup of hot chocolate.

Sylvie breathed in another lungful of crisp air, still watching the surfer with piqued interest. Most of the time, if she saw someone surfing out on the beach, she wouldn’t spare much of a thought. But it was early, and she was bored, and nobody ever surfed past August. At least, to her knowledge nobody did. It was odd, and odd things often caught her attention.

And for some reason, Sylvie was a little jealous. That guy looked like he was having a lot of fun. And here she was, standing on the beach, doing nothing, like a loser. It’d be really fun to just take off her outer layer of clothes and run into the water, fully clothed. After all, she hadn’t swam in forever. She took a moment, and stared at the edge of the water and it’s bubbling foam. It was a little further than it had been when she first stopped, the tides must have been receding. She could just kick off her boots and run in a little. No harm done. She was a strong swimmer, there would be no problem with the waves carrying her away. Probably.

Then Sylvie’s pesky voice of reason chimed in, right as the surfer wiped out. His fall reminded her that it was probably freezing in the water. If she was freezing while wearing a winter coat, she’d probably get hypothermia in that water. And then she’d probably get chided by someone for being stupid. So, it was probably best that she stayed put.

Sylvie’s internal bickering turned off when she noticed that the boy was closer to shore now. He was even close enough for her to get a good look at him in the morning light. Sylvie could have walked off, and continued on her meandering. Also so she could get rid of her temptation to jump in the water. But what was the fun in that? Plus, the boy seemed to be heading towards her. As he came onto the sand, she gave him an expressionless nod. She stepped back a little when he started to shake the water off, just so she wouldn’t get splashed.

When he asked her what she was doing out here, Sylvie could only shrug and say “Snoring cabin mates, severe boredom, cabin fever, take your pick.” Sylvie glanced towards the boy’s surfboard, “Pretty brave of you to surf in such cold weather. Though some might call it stupidity.” Sylvie looked up and down the beach, “Did you bring a towel or a coat or something?”

Sylvie nodded in agreement at the boy’s comment on snoring cabin mates. She watched as the boy took off his mask thing, giving her a better look at who she was talking to. The Dane stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, secretly wishing she had put on gloves too. She could understand his mention of the layers. She probably should have followed that advice.

She was impressed at his modesty, and his assurance that he wasn’t brave to be surfing in the middle of winter. If it had been Sylvie, there was no doubt that she would call herself brave. But everyone has their own definition of courage, so who was she to argue about it. While the boy shed his gloves, Sylvie rocked on the balls of her feet a little, trying to keep them from going numb.

The boy introduced himself to her, and she repeated the name a couple times inside of her head to make sure she didn’t forget. But knowing her, she would. Not that she would admit it, she’d just find away around using his name until someone called him or he wrote his name somewhere. Sylvie removed her hand from her pocket long enough to shake his hand, afterwards shoving it back in before she lost all feeling in it. If she left it out in the cold for longer than a minute, she’d probably develop hypothermia. Okay so maybe she was over reacting on that last part, but it could happen. “Sylvie.” She responded, “I’d give you my coat, but I don’t think you’d fit in it. And I really enjoy being mildly warm. If you want you can wear my hat.” Sylvie pulled off her woolen beanie, causing her brown locks to fall every which way. She held it out to him, using her other hand to smooth her hair so it would look less wild. Nobody ever said Sylvie was selfish. She liked to commit random acts of kindness now and then, and if giving someone her hat to wear counted as one, why not?