Living here you are never more than twenty minutes from the beach. I suppose that’s why we take it for granted. I think to myself, the rolling surf and beautiful pier will always be there tomorrow. I’m sure of it.
I lived here all my life so I know the familiar creaking noise the old, wooden pier makes, the sound of the waves breaking across the rocks at high tide, and the view of the vibrant sunset, setting over the ocean. The bike paths running parallel to the ocean bring up memories from my childhood of early morning Saturday bike rides with my Dad. I can still taste the delicious ice cream bar we bought each morning from the food truck parked near the end of the path. I can also clearly picture the odd look the elderly man who ran the truck gave us when we asked for ice cream at nine am.
On some mornings there would be such dense fog that felt as if it was going to cling to your skin forever. The fog made it so you could only see about five feet in front of you. On other mornings, my favorite mornings, the sky would be crystal clear, and through the distance you could see the Channel Islands sitting amidst the dark blue sea.
As a little girl I spent many mornings pretending, while walking across the rickety pier, that it would go on forever, and I could cross the world without ever having to leave the comfort and safety of my pier. Now I rarely venture on to the pier but when I do I can’t help but think of all the places I would like to go without that safety net. I suppose that feeling may change over time. As a little girl I never wanted to leave and now I can’t wait to go. How I will feel about home five years from now I don’t know. Perhaps the feeling of wanting to be anywhere but here will be gone and I will be content yet again on my pier. Wherever I go and however I change, I know the peir will still be here, forever standing strong. I’m sure of it.