J spent ten days at home over Christmas. When it came time to see her off at the airport, we were both used to it. A hug at the gate and a final wave before she disappeared beyond security—nothing overly sentimental.
But the departure was delayed again. Her carry-on was checked at the last minute, and one half-hour delay followed another, turning the journey into something long and wearying. I can only hope the time at home was worth it. After all, separation makes reunion more memorable.
One bright spot was a beach outing during a rare stretch of gloomy California winter weather. J had heard that the beaches had recently been swarmed with people watching the king tides and suggested visiting one nearby. Of course, we jumped at the idea, ready to take her wherever she wished to go.
The sky was overcast, the sea a dark, steely gray. We gingerly climbed over the rocks, searching for starfish, and to our delight found quite a few—mostly purple, with a few in brilliant orange. Some clustered together, others lay alone, pressed against the rock surfaces, their colorful tentacles spread wide and perfectly still.
For the first time, we saw crystal-green sea anemones glowing in the water. J dipped her iPhone beneath the surface to photograph them. Nearby, tiny crabs scuttled about, and fish lay camouflaged among the rocks.
Our final delight came when we turned over a moss-covered stone and discovered a small octopus tucked quietly underneath, but was disturbed and desperately running away.
J's unfinished artwork:
