I would go into work on Monday morning in Tempe, Arizona with beach hair from Sunday afternoon in Topanga, CA. 

We left at 7AM. Drove for six hours, straight to the beach. It felt like twenty minutes. We explored an outdoor antique furniture shop. It was beautiful.

I daydreamed about owning all of that furniture. At one point, I showed him a piece I loved and said “It’s only $300.”

He lauged, “Only.”

I told him, “I speak out of what I know I’ll have one day.”

He smiled.

He wandered around the site, taking photos while I explored the art somemore. We walked down to the sand. I took off my stockings and thirft store shoes that were falling apart and ran to the water. It was beautiful outside. The waves were magic, the smell was nostalgic.

We walked all around the beach, up to a restaurant. I gasped “This is the restaurant where my dad proposed to my mom.” I laughed. We walked along PCH, passing old surfer bums taking naps in their cars. The wind was soft. The city was busy. 

We drove up Topanga Canyon. I got nauseous and clausterphobic. I wanted to see the city. He was calm. And kind. We drove back down, along PCH to Santa Monica. We stopped at pizzeria on Main Street across from Urthe Cafe. We sat by the window where we could watch the people outside live their normal Sunday afternoon lives. We got in the car and drove to Yorba Linda. We surprised my mom and picked her up from work. We met my dad and my brother half way back from their golfing adventure, at an old familiar place: a Starbucks just around the corner from our old house. It was sad and beautiful. I bought my mom a soy chai and reminisced with my dad about our the way things were and are now. We all enjoyed each others company.

By 7PM, we were back on the road. The sky was dark and full. I thanked God. We got back to Tempe around 2AM and crashed. I was so tired. I was so happy.

This is the boy I love. A boy that says to me on Friday, “So, I’m thinking I’m gonna do a day trip to California on Sunday to get some photos for my class presentation. Wanna go with me?” A quiet adventurer. A daring introvert. A boy that drives in the morning and lets me sleep, that buys me diet coke and coffee when I want it but don’t need it, that holds my hand on the beach and admires me as I throw salt water in my hair. A boy that wants to explore a windy road but doesn’t because I start to feel sick. 

A boy that makes me think, almost every time I’m with him, “My life is actually pretty cool.” 

And I’m really starting to believe it.