long since scattered with the ever-cooling air like students fleeing the classroom at the ringing of the bell, while I stay behind like a teacher’s pet asking for more homework. Their loss is my gain.
While I love Ocean Beach at every time of the day, this is my favorite hour. When the sun is setting, the sand is still, and the only sounds come from the surf. I’m at peace here, something within me settles.
It’s mid-May so the air is warm, but the delicate sea breeze caresses my skin, causing me to tighten my light-wash denim jacket around me, and the stray strands of my hair to waltz in the wind. I’d prefer to be in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt instead of my white shorts and billowing floral blouse, but it’s not too cold at the moment.
As I see my father’s bench on the horizon, cast in the warm amber glow of the sky, I spot a lone silhouette sitting on it and my heart sinks. Of course, anyone can sit on the bench, but I had hoped to be alone with my dad and my thoughts. It’s the perfect bench in the perfect spot for thinkers and dreamers.
Today I fall into the first category, though I’m also a member of the latter. I hesitate, unsure of whether I should proceed or turn around and walk back to my car to drive home. Maybe this mysterious figure also wants to be alone with their thoughts and would resent the interruption my presence would bring.
Perhaps I’ll just walk up to it. It’s possible that they’ll leave in the time it takes me to reach it and if not, I can keep walking past and make it seem like that was always my intention. Nothing is worse than an interloper in your solitude. As someone who hates her quiet time interrupted, I’d never do it to someone else.
Decision made, I carry on walking along the stretch of sand, enjoying its coarse grains beneath my feet. My mom always says that walks along the beach are nature’s pedicure, which makes me laugh, but there’s truth in it.
A fond smile graces my face at the thought of my mom. Ever since that night on the deck two years ago when our emotional walls crumbled, we’ve become close among the wreckage. Two broken people doing the best they can to put each other back together.
We’re still made up of mismatched and cracked pieces, but a much better understanding exists between us. She allows me to see her imperfect and I allow her to see me afraid.
We now have a bond that doesn’t need my dad for reinforcement. It can survive on its own. It’s another work in progress, but it’s ours , and that’s all that matters.
As I near the solitary stranger, I can tell it’s a man from his build. I can’t make out any features due to the position of the light, plus his head is bent, as if looking down at something. I’m a few steps away when his head jerks up, somehow attuned to my presence even though my footsteps are silent in the sand.
He looks straight at me. And I stand still. For a brief moment, I stop breathing.
And then my lungs once again take in salty air as my eyes once again take in the sight of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man, who is currently staring back at me with an expression I’m sure mirrors my own.
I stand and he sits, both of us frozen; strangers reunited under the splendidly setting sun.
“HI.”
“Hey.”
I’m struck by the warm sense of familiarity and recognition I experience upon hearing two of the most common and basic words in the English language. Everything has changed since that day, and yet in this moment, things feel just as they did two years ago. We’re once again just a boy and a girl searching and failing for words and moments that transcend the mundane.
“Long time no see, Goldilocks.”
His shocked face spreads into a glorious, dimpled smile at my nickname from that day gone by. He looks the same but different. A light dusting of blond stubble on his jaw that wasn’t there before, a confidence and presence in his posture which hadn’t existed, muscles defined where once they
While I love Ocean Beach at every time of the day, this is my favorite hour. When the sun is setting, the sand is still, and the only sounds come from the surf. I’m at peace here, something within me settles.
It’s mid-May so the air is warm, but the delicate sea breeze caresses my skin, causing me to tighten my light-wash denim jacket around me, and the stray strands of my hair to waltz in the wind. I’d prefer to be in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt instead of my white shorts and billowing floral blouse, but it’s not too cold at the moment.
As I see my father’s bench on the horizon, cast in the warm amber glow of the sky, I spot a lone silhouette sitting on it and my heart sinks. Of course, anyone can sit on the bench, but I had hoped to be alone with my dad and my thoughts. It’s the perfect bench in the perfect spot for thinkers and dreamers.
Today I fall into the first category, though I’m also a member of the latter. I hesitate, unsure of whether I should proceed or turn around and walk back to my car to drive home. Maybe this mysterious figure also wants to be alone with their thoughts and would resent the interruption my presence would bring.
Perhaps I’ll just walk up to it. It’s possible that they’ll leave in the time it takes me to reach it and if not, I can keep walking past and make it seem like that was always my intention. Nothing is worse than an interloper in your solitude. As someone who hates her quiet time interrupted, I’d never do it to someone else.
Decision made, I carry on walking along the stretch of sand, enjoying its coarse grains beneath my feet. My mom always says that walks along the beach are nature’s pedicure, which makes me laugh, but there’s truth in it.
A fond smile graces my face at the thought of my mom. Ever since that night on the deck two years ago when our emotional walls crumbled, we’ve become close among the wreckage. Two broken people doing the best they can to put each other back together.
We’re still made up of mismatched and cracked pieces, but a much better understanding exists between us. She allows me to see her imperfect and I allow her to see me afraid.
We now have a bond that doesn’t need my dad for reinforcement. It can survive on its own. It’s another work in progress, but it’s ours , and that’s all that matters.
As I near the solitary stranger, I can tell it’s a man from his build. I can’t make out any features due to the position of the light, plus his head is bent, as if looking down at something. I’m a few steps away when his head jerks up, somehow attuned to my presence even though my footsteps are silent in the sand.
He looks straight at me. And I stand still. For a brief moment, I stop breathing.
And then my lungs once again take in salty air as my eyes once again take in the sight of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man, who is currently staring back at me with an expression I’m sure mirrors my own.
I stand and he sits, both of us frozen; strangers reunited under the splendidly setting sun.
“HI.”
“Hey.”
I’m struck by the warm sense of familiarity and recognition I experience upon hearing two of the most common and basic words in the English language. Everything has changed since that day, and yet in this moment, things feel just as they did two years ago. We’re once again just a boy and a girl searching and failing for words and moments that transcend the mundane.
“Long time no see, Goldilocks.”
His shocked face spreads into a glorious, dimpled smile at my nickname from that day gone by. He looks the same but different. A light dusting of blond stubble on his jaw that wasn’t there before, a confidence and presence in his posture which hadn’t existed, muscles defined where once they
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