Sandy Toes

Sandy toes are a sign that life is good.

I love water. I love getting my feet wet and making my way in. I love getting to know the beach by letting my feet dance on and in the sand. Usually, I watch the waves for a bit to get a feel for their pace, sometimes from my safe perch away from the water's edge, and sometimes from as I wade in. Here, the sand is a fine grain--and actually when it's wet, it's sparkly! Little specks of bronze break up what might otherwise look like a muddy mess.

Sayulita is a surfer's haven, so the waves here are a bit larger than what I would ordinarily prefer. It's fun to watch the surfers from our condo, at any time of the day. From up here (we're probably about 100-125' up), we can see how the paddleboarders and surfboarders fare, and whether or not any swimmers are alongside them. The last couple of days have been windy, and the waves a challenge for a recreational dipper like me. Yesterday, Marlene, Kendra and I headed up to San Francisco (aka San Pancho) where the waves were brutal and the undertow strong. It was blissfully hot and sunny, and not a soul around when we arrived. I kept running in and out. The waves were large and frequent. They broke twice near the shore. But today, the water was great. The waves came often enough to add a bit of excitement while allowing me to play.

In fact, I giggled. I was giggling alone in the water. I giggled again when I caught myself giggling. Kendra was on the beach, while Marlene was enjoying a siesta back at the condo. I twirled, spun, dove and played in the water like a little kid. And it was fantastic.

Triumphantly I returned to dry land, feeling good about the moment I was in. I was wet, drying in the sun, surrounded by families and tourists enjoying themselves too. Surfers continued to battle waves for bragging rights. Kids raced to build sandcastles. And I simply relished my sandy toes.

How Lucky Can One Gal Be?

I'm a party-crasher. Not ordinarily, but this week I am. Marlene was headed to Mexico, found a place that was "too big" for just her, and invited me to attend. OUCH! You're hurting me from all that arm-twisting!!

We arrived just in time for Easter (sorry Mom), and that also means just in time for Bright Week, the week that follows Easter in our faith. Spent in Seattle, Bright Week draws from its metaphorical roots. Here, it's much more literal. A glance at the photo attached to this post shouldn't make you feel sorry for us. I write to you from our terrace, with that view before me, listening to waves crashing, while in my swimsuit.

You might remember from previous posts that I have learned "wherever I go, there I am." Coming to a place I have never been has reminded about a particular moment that I want to share--the moment of initial discovery, that you can neither prepare for fully nor replicate as hard as you might try. It's the "Wow -- look at THAT!" moment.

Our modern day age of interwebs and digital images cannot capture this moment for us. No amount of photos seen in advance can prepare for the full sensory experience that "that moment" gives you. It's the "I've arrived!" moment. It's the "How did I get here?" moment. It's the stopandtakeabreath moment. Listen to the waves crash against the beach. Taste the salt on your tongue as you breathe it in from your nose, ever so slightly expanding your lungs to take in as much as you can. Feel the heat on your skin, even the sweat drip down your back. Notice the color around you. Touch weathered surfaces, and grin at the prospect of waking up to this in the morning.

This moment can only happen once. It comes after all those trips to Bartells, to department store dressing rooms, and to banks. It comes after sorting through magazines and novels. It comes after finding your passport, and holding it in your hand, feeling its weight, knowing it shall be required again soon. It comes after sorting through long since forgotten summer clothes. It comes after talking about it with your dear friend with wild excitement. It comes after all those arrangements are made. The byproduct of anticipation and realization, the moment bears the sweetest fruits around: discovery, exploration, relaxation, salt water, sunshine, tan lines, and fresh fruit popsicles shared with a dear friend.

Thank you, Marlene, for sharing this moment with and allowing it to happen for me. And Kendra, I can't wait for you to join us and watch your moment.