From the book Soul Surfer: A True Story of Faith, Family, & Fighting to Get Back On The Board
That’s all it took: a split second. I felt a lot of pressure and a couple of lightning-fast tugs. I couldn’t make out any of the details, but I knew that the huge jaws of a fifteen-foot tiger shark covered the top of my board and my left arm.
My lamp is pretty cool: it has a clear base that I filled with shells. In fact, my whole room is full of shells.
I know lots of girls agonize over what outfit to wear to school or on a date. Me? I always obsess over what bathing suit to put on for a surf.
Surfers judge the quality of a wave by its shape; the more the top or crest throws out to the bottom of the wave, the better. This makes the wave form a little hole that a surfer can pull into, called the “tube.”
Even though it was dark, with the windows down we could smell the beauty of Hawaii: perfumed plumeria and pikake flowers, the wet earth, grass, and salty air.