The Ocean

Musings of somewhere on the side of Highway 1, where I spent most of my time in 2022, when I lived out of a 2002 Ford Econoline.

I used to wake up to the sound of the ocean waves. I would crack my eyes open slightly to see the sky painted bright pinks and oranges, and couldn’t help but smile. “I finally woke up in time to see the sunrise” I would think, but the wind would rock my car gently back and forth, coaxing me back into a deep slumber until an arguably inappropriate hour. I remember the unsettling sound of the occasional car whizzing by, the contrary call of the seagulls and doves. I could still feel the sand underneath my fingernails, still taste the salt on my lips from the day before. Under the bright blue sky, my bare feet would touch the bare, dusty ground. The bright sun had dried the morning dew, and left pink kisses on my cheeks. I would wander out to the cliffs, letting the wind pull the sleep from my body. I danced in the meadows and got lost in the morning, letting time slow down before I even thought about the world beyond that little stretch of road up Highway 1.