The ones who stay

The first time I saw Daylon was 12 years ago, running across the street with no shirt on, chasing a husky back home with a Nerf gun- orange tip taken off. Straight hooligan.

After all that time, not much has changed- except his hair. Still wild. Still free. Still my best friend.

Growing up, I always told Daylon we’d surf the world together. 13 years old, landlocked at the time and deep in our burn random shit for no reason era, it was a funny thing to say. Fast forward and we’ve somehow done it. Thousands of miles to and from California, countless flights to Mexican surf towns and still so much to see. 

Thanks for putting up with my shit all these years, lord knows I've done the same…p.s I'm still sorry I doused you in gasoline when we were 14. Our first fist fight lol 

When my life flashes before my eyes as I die, I know I'll replay the days I spent with my best friends surfing the California coast until the sun got off work, waking up in a car or tent to the sound of waves, rummaging through the console for change to pay for In N Out, all while my skin was tight, feeling invincible, thinking this life will never end. I will never regret the time,money or sacrifices needed to do so. 

Find your Tribe. Love them.Cherish them. Dont fuck them over. 

We are stronger in numbers, but only when those numbers mean something.