We arrived early Saturday afternoon to ideal local weather. Sunny, breezy conditions. No clouds on the horizon. The sun high in the sky. The surf a bit rocky, yet nothing big enough to scare away the bravest of young beach goers.
An ocean front room with shutters that opened to the smell and sounds coming off the Pacific, I ran to the balcony immediately. Listening to the sounds of the ocean waves crashing onto the beach was the best way to unwind from the bustle of Los Angeles. I kicked up my feet and shut out the noise of my own thoughts.
I don’t often visit this sanctuary, but when I do make the trek down south to Laguna Beach, countless memories float to the surface of my subconscious. I connect to a place and community I once called my own. A time when my family united, summer after summer, to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries and put aside personal feuds and disagreements.
Remembering these moments, of summers spent lounging on the beach, of lunching with my great, grandmother Nana, of snacking on tuna sandwiches and sitting on the upper deck of her Tudor mansion, of enjoying the sunset with the “adults”, grounded me in gratitude. I realized what a blessed childhood I had – one filled with more good times than bad.
As an adult I returned this weekend to celebrate an anniversary in my personal life, and even with a new perspective on life and a new view of the world, I found myself admiring the same restaurants, street signs and local nurseries I did many years ago.