Oh my, where do I begin my story, but at the beginning.
I saw that I needed more than what surrounded me.
My eyes ached for the view—the long lengths of endless beauty stretching out before me.
My mouth yearned for a taste of salty air like sweat on our lips after a hard run.
My ears needed that overpowering sound—a cyclic crashing of waters choreographed by our earth’s dance with the moon.
My heart desired to be alone—for a day, not forever—but long enough to be heard, again.
My hands wanted to feel the flow of sand between my fingers, and my toes agreed, so they begged me to pack my overnight bag into my car.
In the morning, I awoke early. Kissed my darlings good-bye, and drove away from the sunrise.
I took the back roads as often as possible, curves winding through the contours of rolling hills covered in grape vines until I followed the road westward to the Pacific.
A solo sojourn to the ocean. A crinkled map (no Siri directions—no GPS coordinates, but just an idea of a space where the sky meets the sea). Coffee. Selfie’s ignored. Phone tucked away.
Me. Only me.
In the moment, driving towards an unknown, but known destination, a beach at the edge of a bay where waters covered the San Andreas fault.
I arrived, and with bare feet I ran down the steps to the beach, finding my destination to be surprisingly called the Heart’s Desire.
Copyright 2015 ~ jes wright (All rights reserved)