Remains of the Day

It had been an interesting year. We had developed quite a rapport as we always seemed to find a lot to talk about; a special connection. We were two intrepid explorers finding a unique friendship.

“It could be a meeting on the street, or a party or a lecture, or just a simple, banal introduction, then suddenly there is a flash of recognition and the embers of kinship glow. There is an awakening between you, a sense of ancient knowing.” ~John O’Donohue (Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)

A seasoned adventurer, he enlightened me with all manner of new experiences in every realm imaginable. This day was no exception, bittersweet as it was. His late morning arrival in rumpled clothes from the previous night’s bacchanalian foray told me it was over and we both knew it. But, we were determined to make it a great day. Save the best for last; and we did…

It was as if the Universe sent a not so gentle nudge to say “Be right here, right now; in this moment. I have a plan for you that is far better than you possibly could have imagined.” And so it was that Sunday afternoon we spent, just two souls eager for adventure and hungry for serenity. Answering the siren call beckoning us to the coast, it was a day that was utterly inspired. The rains had let up and it was gorgeous for a winter day. The deluge had left lush green in every corner of its wake. It was hard not to be happy and exhilarated with such raw, rustic beauty streaming by as we drove through Devil’s Slide and down to the coast highway. It was crystal clear and the sun was high.

Moss Beach unfurled her nature’s bounty like a weaver unlooming her latest tapestry masterpiece. A vibrant explosion for the senses, each moment more perfect that the last. We had stopped at a local spot that was famous in the old days. People were taking brunch inside, but the patio was the place to be. We order drinks from the bar and scouted the best spot to take in the view. Like a million earthbound stars the sun glinted and gleamed off the grey-green ocean, beautiful and violent at once. The sea lions were basking in their briny spa, a rocky sea ledge only just right for their blubbery, dough-boy forms. “This is the way to relax,” they seemed to mock. And so we did from our perfect blanketed bench perched above the glorious splendor, enraptured by the warmth of the fire pit and cocktails and conversation and two hawks courting above the chartreuse tinged cypress. It was like heaving a thousand deep breaths all at once, shrugging off the long winter we’d had and the grief of endings. He regaled me with stories of his travels in his youth and stories of I don’t even know what, one thread embroidering into the next thought, laughing and joking like our hearts weren’t heavy and breaking.

We took a quick jaunt to Half-Moon Bay for a day’s end tour of the pier which revealed a brown sea gull feasting on the remains of the day on the deck of a fishing boat–a sea star dinner. Then we were off to sate our own hunger at the local brew pub. Like two salty dogs we dined in fine fashion on the day’s catch crafted into an array of palate pleasing flavors as a local band entertained the regulars. Walking hand-in-hand and arm-in-arm, a perfect but unlikely pair, we saddled up for the drive home as the sun began to fall beneath the water’s edge. Quiet and slow, not wanting it to end…


3 thoughts on “Remains of the Day

  1. […] Remains of the Day […]

  2. Beautifully written :).

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