The Salt Coast

I feel like I have been here before. Not in any specific terms, but it all feels so familiar. It didn't take long to feel comfortable. I miss my family but sense them here. Summer was suddenly thrust upon us and that could have been why. It had felt done but now it seems it never left. There is something lacking, though. I know it is probably something lacking in me.

We stayed on couches for a few days. A storm had terrorized the California coast but we were just below it in the sunshine in San Diego. It was the first real rain of the season and the mudslides were a concern because of all the fires California was dealing with during the dry months. Plus, we had a certain idea of what the drive up the coast would be like and drowning in rain and mud was not a part of it.

The sun fought strong in San Diego. We spent most of our day moping around town and walking along the pier. I was writing a lot there. It felt right and nearly effortless. I smiled at the sun and the calm waves crashing on the beach. Again I had a strong sense of home but then I would wonder what home really is and I became frustrated. The most I could gather was I enjoyed it when I felt it and sometimes it makes me want to cry. I have a few times in my life.

We played disc golf which was the most fun I have ever had with Frisbees. We drove around the city and the wind was warm and didn't provide relief. I could feel my pulse slow and didn't feel a need for anything. We had fish tacos at a shanty shack and it tasted authentic though I don't really know what authentic fish tacos should taste like. They were delicious all the same.

It has been close to a month since we left. We have driven almost six thousand miles. Time feels like nothing except still frames of images piled as if in a landfill and it is far too difficult and rancid to organize. I can revisit some moments whenever I want and sometimes I think I have actually traveled in time when in reality I have because I have gone from that second to this one like tick, tock. We are all traveling in time but maybe not moving anywhere except around and around and I wonder how I change so much that I cannot recognize myself in my thoughts. This trip is almost over and it no longer will define me but I know at some point I will revisit it and realize how much it has changed me. But for now I feel the same as I did yesterday.

I snapped too when a gust of wind flipped the pages of my journal like a deck of cards. I looked out over the water. I was sitting at a table on the pier which shot out to the ocean. There was surf below me and the water had a suspicious red clay color to it. I was staring south at Tijuana trying to imagine what it was like there because as far as I can tell from the stories I have heard it may be the most volatile place on the planet. I've never been, though.

Brandon had taken a walk and he was now standing at the very end of the pier staring out on the water. I saw Domenic laying in the sand on the beach. I took a sip of coffee. We were all lost in thought and spread apart from each other. I am pretty sure we are sharing something we won't ever lose. In the water there was a restlessness that seemed to be taunting. The storm to the north was churning the seas and although it was a beautiful day there was a looming suspicion that things were off kilter. I closed my journal and looped the elastic around the cover to keep it closed. I finished my coffee with a gulp and stood to stretch. I want to stay here, though I know I am the only one. I could get a job and live in the summer for a while and that would make me happy. I don't know why we have to leave. We do, though.

It hasn't been enough to justify anything. That sentence is vague because the notion is vague. I don't know if it is expectations or if I am just waiting for something or if it is just a human thing to never remain satisfied but I am not. It isn't a sadness or a tragedy simply a feeling that no matter where I am it isn't enough. It is only enough when it is gone and I don't have it anymore. That there in lies the tragedy.

We heard the storm was finishing that evening and decided we had already overstayed our welcome. We were right, as no one argued with our decision to head north. We figured we could spend the night in Los Angeles at a cheap motel and leave in the morning and in the sunshine. We started driving and within twenty minutes the wind had picked up and the clouds stopped the light and it was a heavy grey. We were in good spirits but they were definitely affected by the storm like August is affected by the anticipation of fall. We didn't say much but listened to music and studied the coast line when we could until we hit the traffic of L.A. It was stopped dead and raining now so we couldn't open our windows and the air conditioner didn't work. I was so hot I took off my pants in the backseat but that didn't help and it felt weird but I left them off because I couldn't stand the feeling of wet denim on my legs. There wasn't much more to that night. The next day was the start of the best part of the trip.