I grew up in Pacifica, just blocks from the Pacific Ocean. I never appreciated the ocean until I moved away at the age of 17. Of course, I thought it was pretty, but never understood how living on the coast infiltrates your soul. Coming home on breaks from Chico State, I'd eagerly anticipate reaching the northern tip of Pacifica, where Highway 1 rises and subsequently dips, offering a dramatic view of the Pacific. I'd immediately roll down all my windows and breathe the sea in as I drove to my parents house. Even if it was a cold night, my bedroom window would remain open to let the fresh, salty air in.
I live within 20 miles of the Pacific Ocean now, and very close to San Francisco Bay, but its just not the same. There is something about living on the ocean, especially the stretch that runs from Ocean Beach south to Santa Cruz County. This was my playground growing up.
My friend Katie and her daughter Claudia arrived last week from Washington State and invited me down to stay at her family beach house down in Santa Cruz. "It's nothing fancy," she warned me. "It suits me fine though."
The house Katie was referring to is an old carriage house that was converted into a residence. The place is just funky enough to be perhaps the perfect Santa Cruz home. Located three houses away from a bluff and gorgeous beach, the house is designed for maximum family usage and is able to take on the sandiest of children. It consists of one big room full of beds, a rustic kitchen, and a bathroom accessible from both outside and inside. Above the kitchen is a small master bedroom with a private deck. A large deck out front of the house just screams barbecue and board games.
It was in a word, perfect.
I arrived in Santa Cruz after attending my Aunt Dot's funeral mass. I needed some time to reflect of her passing and was in a bit of a sad mood as I started the drive south. As if Aunt Dot herself wanted to cheer me up, I was greeted with blue skies shining over Monterey Bay as I descended Hwy. 17 into Santa Cruz.
Katie and Kelly greeted me warmly when I walked up to the front door, still in my black funeral garb. K and K were my neighbors in college and we rarely get to see each other all at once anymore. Before we can hug, Claudia screams "MY KRISTEN!" and hugs my leg. I am so happy to be here, away from funerals and rosary masses.
We spent the afternoon at the beach. Katie's sister and her two daughters join us. Kelly brings her three-month-old son Jack with us and he sleeps peacefully in a little portable tent on the sand. I race incoming waves with Claudia and her cousin Riley until they start playing a new game where they jump repeatedly into a big hole in the sand. We return home hours later, sandy, sundrenched, and content.
After dinner, everyone but Katie, Claudia, and I leave to go home. While Katie readies Claudia for bed, I walk down to a bench at the edge of the bluff and watch the sunset. When Katie comes back out front, we drink red wine and talk about what is going on in our lives. For the first time in my thirties, I feel content with being in my thirties. This is very adult and it feels right. No wild parties, no craziness. Just a mellow day with good friends, good conversation, and followed by a blissful night of sleep...listening to waves crashing.
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