Muir Beach

While I'm on (a brief) vacation, the friends I'm staying with are not, but the combination of beautiful weather and the minimal crowds on weekdays persuaded them to play hooky with me this afternoon, and we went to Muir Beach.

I'm know I'm biased, but the Northern California coast on a beautiful day in June is as perfect as it gets. For the first few years after I moved east, my longing for this geography was sometimes a physical pain; I used to joke that I had the California coastline etched in acid on my bones. At the beach, my friends hiked and threw balls for Bella to fish out of the surf, but once I plopped down on the sand I didn't budge until it was time to leave. I'm not homesick any more; this isn't really home any more. But still I feel as though I have to soak it in and save it up: the smell of the salt air, the rhythm of the waves, the pelicans dive-bombing the fish, the chilly brown sand between my toes. I have to hang on to this. I might need it someday.