Today I am alive. Kris and I drove to Sausalito, and we walked near the water. Drank good coffee. Watched the Bay. Wondered. I smiled bravely and remembered my 21st birthday in this same small town. Did I ever think I'd be back again? And so soon? I memorized the moments as we passed shops. An art gallery here. A watch store there. A boutique. Candy shop. Café. Chip shop. I remembered my quiet paper lantern prayers at Victoria Park in Belfast as I watched the herons and seagulls.
We raced through the hills later, determined to be at Muir Beach for sunset. We made it, and the cliffs were silhouettes to an orange-skied backdrop. I put a beach stone in my pocket. (remember.) We stood still until we were cold. Until it was dark. Welcome home, I told Kris. You've made it. Waves crashed hard and loud and constantly, with intermittent hushes between, like the silence of God and I breathed in California and the Pacific. Standing on the shore, I was awed by the fact that I've stood on so many shores recently. I've breathed Pacific and Atlantic, and I have put Irish and Scottish stones in my pockets.
Someday I'll build an altar out of all my beach stones, and I will say to myself, see? You were here.
Tonight, we drove into the city. Dinner and soul-staring conversation. I was not prepared to leave. Listened to zero 7 as we crossed the bay bridge, and I waved goodbye to the skyline.
I love this place.
Annie and her stones of remembrance. (And I'm thinking of your mother and hers...) San Francisco! Have only been there once, when I was 18, not so very long ago...So glad you are having a wonderful time.