Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Seventy-One
A rumbling stomach upon awakening.
A thin sliver of pale gold light. I suggest the donut shop for a pastry and a coffee.
Everything is glistening in the morning sun.
Maple. Mexican Hot Chocolate. Choco Coffee. Cinnamon Sugar Apple Cake. A large decaf Americano.
We make our way down the path toward the water. Out the corner of my eye are three children in bathing suits who clearly intend to get into the frigid water. Why not?
Thunderous waves. The red-brown of the rock. Trees shaped by coastal winds. Tiny waterfalls. Here, the dirt is full of crushed oyster shells. Over there, hard chunks of white rock.
As we walk, he entertains my daydreams of running a bed and breakfast. “I’ve had this dream since high school,” I say. “No joke.”
I walk over and see an almost intact abalone shell and an oyster shell larger than my hand.
Ahi poke bowl, oysters, a cup of crab bisque, and a few glasses of Husch Sauvignon Blanc.
Actually. Yes. I could live here.
The loudest we’ve been. The hardest my hands have hurt. Is there such a thing as a thrilling loss? As an adult with perspective, you understand that it’s not the end of things, but as the one who thinks they failed their team, it is indeed the end of things. As an adult, you understand that growth only happens from failure. New visions, new beliefs, new actions = new you.
