As we were leaving San Francisco, the sojourn was impossible to prevent.
This is the one part of my trip I stood up for. I knew my husband didn’t understand why it was such a big deal and I was going to disappoint my mom when we showed up late to her place. My sister and I are two hopeless beach freaks. We were spiraling up the ocean cliffs buzzing with excitement like two teenagers out past curfew.
I loved Stinson Beach as a teenager. The monstrous surf had become almost magical in my memory after twenty years away.
The hottest days couldn’t warm the water enough to swim comfortably but the sun always found every freckle on my face. We would drive up that serpentine highway late at night in cars full of kids singing, arguing, making out…until that stunning vista just appeared like an eternity of undulating twilight. And the moon, hanging above it throwing moonlight down all over the waves.
I was looking at the edge of the world like I was Aphrodite or Shakira. I was immortal.
I was not gripping the armrest. I never had an anxiety attack. Things change.
It is one of my best memories from our trip.
The magic is still there.
It was New Year’s Day.