A couple heading towards to the surf
I took a drive out to the coast. The weather is pretty amazing this week. It's 80 degrees this afternoon where I live, cooler out at the ocean.
I had an idea to take myself out to an expensive lunch at one of the popular seafood restaurants near where the sea lions bark and beg the fishermen for scraps. I went around through the back of the restaurant to check out the tables to see if there was one open by the bay side. Rounding the corner, I was surprised to find a full line of people waiting at the front on a Tuesday afternoon. When I found out it was going to be an almost two hour wait for a table, I was like omg, forget it. Years ago, during this time of the year and week, the dining room was half empty in the restaurant when I stopped by for lunch between my pet sits.
Lucky for my wallet, I ended up at the local deli, only two guys were in line, their white undershirts splattered with dirt and oil revealing a hard day at work. I ordered a veggie sandwich, and Scott's favorite Asiago pasta salad and headed out to one of his favorite spots.
Scott loved telling me stories of how he backed his van into the parking lot, facing the coastline to watch the surfers and take in the ocean breeze with his cattle dog, Cobber. He spent hours here at the coast on his days off from work, watching the waves and taking naps in the back of the van. When we got together, we spent a lot of time at this same beach doing the same thing except at that time we didn't have a van, so we just shifted the seats back, I stretched out, putting my bare feet up on the dashboard. With the windows rolled down, the sunbeams warming our bodies, we breathed in the sea, both of us falling into restful naps as surfers, people, and dogs would come and go.
Today, was different. I was alone. I watched the gulls, moms with their babies and toddlers held close, and retired couples cross the pavement to the sand on the way to the surf.
I took photos, noticing how I am drawn to take pictures of people. All my life, I've taken photos of animals and nature, purposely leaving out the people. Now, I find myself drawn to the people, also part of the story happening within the photo.
I think my relationship with Scott opened my heart to people more.
I didn't get hit with waves of grief. I felt Scott was there with me. I felt I was supported finding my way on this journey, revisiting places I've been solo over the years, and the last few years exclusively with Scott.
On the way home, the red-tailed hawks and black turkey vultures led the way, flying above me.
During the drive, a message surfaced from within me. While I am here, I'm going to love people and animals, our planet as much as I can before I crossover. Who knows how long I have. For me, it really doesn't matter. Just today does. Only one day. That's really all I have to live, is this moment right now.
One day. One moment at a time.