Toes and Sand

On Sunday I had a great idea.  It was such a gorgeous day.  Bright blue sky, mild breeze.  California’s “freezing” temperatures behind us.  The beach was calling my name.

I wasn’t the only one with this great idea.

Cruising up Pacific Coast Highway just isn’t as sexy when it’s stop and go.

The hunt for parking was a scene from Hunger Games.  Sans the bow and arrow.

When I finally crawled into a parking space, my next foe appeared:  a broken parking meter.

Finally paid and en route to sand and surf, and my bladder chooses to alert me that I need some reprieve.  Sounds of crashing waves do nothing to help convince a bladder to hold out longer.

I wasn’t the only one who had that idea, either.

Up to this point, my main thought was “Why didn’t I just stay home?  I know better than to venture out on a weekend in SoCal.  I could have gotten so much done instead of wasting all this time.”

And then my toes hit the sand. All senses fired as soles of my feet made contact with the fine, grainy blonde sand of Huntington Beach.  I breathed deeply and remembered how much I love the smell of ocean air.  I looked out over the sunshine-bathed expanse of blue, and my soul expanded with its horizon.  I heard the laughter and playfulness coming from the crowds I had resented for the last hour, and I stopped scorning them for having the same idea as me.

My toes hit the sand.  And I remembered what mattered.

Too many times my focus goes to the inconveniences, the frustrations, and the time-wasters.  I know I’m not alone in that, either.  But days like Sunday remind me that pushing through those distractions is worth what’s on the other side, whether it’s a beach day, or a date night, or a family holiday, or dreams and projects that are scary.

This is part of my new-year-new-me resolve:  I’m gonna get my toes in the sand, even if it’s annoying and inconvenient to get them there.

Sand and Surf

 

 

 

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