This Kind of Time

We sunk into the sand step by step and marveled at the landscape surrounding us. Green mountains and deep blue ocean–a perfect combination to ever exist. Gusts of wind blew up sand as we settled into our spot, about thirty yards from the the ocean. The beach was occupied but not crowded. Each person was doing their thing–strumming the guitar, sipping on wine, playing with poi. Stinson beach was a new experience for me. “So this must be the place,” I thought.

Before our beach excursion, we had journeyed in our Smart Car through Muir Woods to witness the impeccable redwoods. They stand 500-800 years old and peer down on you to make one feel their actual size relative to the rest of the planet. I recall my fourth grade teacher praising the red woods back in class, and since that day, I always had an inclination to see them–they were hard to miss on our visit.

As the gusts of sand picked up, we faced our backs to it and combatted it with cups of wine. Gazing around at the scenery, I recalled our stop in Wyoming earlier that summer–days I will never forget. It’s similar but different now. Of course, we’re at different stages in our lives, and there is a devoid of complete freedom now compared to what I had previously felt. However, freedom, in a sense of vacation or time off, needs to be earned; something I’m trying to get my hands around at the moment. But wouldn’t it be nice to have this kind of time.

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