A slow winding Saturday from San Francisco to Napa made for a hard drive south Sunday. We spent a lot of time on the 101 and 5, only taking the 1 on the final leg into San Diego.
We never did buy an iPod adapter for the car, but KFOG out of San Francisco made the northern drive a pleasure. Who knew real radio still existed? Our ears did not fare as well between Gilroy and Santa Barbra, and desperation led to the purchase of CDs at Starbucks and Rite Aid. Neither of which was satisfactory. However, outside of LA we picked up our ABC countdown station just as they were getting into a 25 song “Rock” set.
We stopped in Oceanside to collect sand for a friend. The sun was five o’clock low and the tide was coming in. Water covered most of the sand. We climbed some rocks and watched the waves break on the shore, misting us with cool breath and making children scream with delight when a big one rose up on them and showered down.
Gold, blue, and green dissolving into white foam. For a moment I couldn’t imagine how I could ever go home and leave this sea beat and heart rhythm.
Back in the car Shelle said, “We’d need at least three weeks.”
I nodded and started the car, but as the miles rolled down, I started counting the hours until I’d see my kids, my family, my friends. This is the first trip I’ve taken in a while where I didn’t imagine relocating my life. Right now, I like it just where it is.
Besides, the ocean will still be here when I come back.
Coming Up Tomorrow– Angus Mohr Mohr Mohr: what the two best ways to spend a hot summer night have in common.
Shullamuth Ballinger 