Saturday, November 13, 2010
California Dreamin': Part 2
Some things should not be ignored. Ever. Regardless of temperature, illness, or age. They should be sought out, appreciated, engaged head on. When born and raised in a landlocked state, the ocean is one of those things. It should be smelled, heard, and touched (sat in, even, if you're four and immune to freezing water). It should be beheld, and possessed in any way possible (through deep salty breaths or rubbing the smooth stones that the waves cough up on shore between your forefinger and thumb), in any way it allows. You should stay a while, long enough to collect some sand in the folds of your clothes and a handful of rocks in your empty shoes (I'm not sure what we're going to do with that little collection yet). When it's time to go, it may be best to linger a few minutes more, to guide your eyes to the textures of sand and seaweed, bird feather and wave ripple, before you lift your toes from the chilly foam and return to the cracked pavement you know. You can always tell the tourists, can't you?