Last Thursday

Last Thursday was my day off.

I spent it visiting Becca's sister Jessica down in Twin Rocks for the day, because she was in town for our old church Family Camp.

I drove the entire 45 minute trip along the coast with my windows rolled down and a playlist full of nostalgia to keep me company.

There are few things I love more in this world than driving up or down the Oregon coastline.  Every viewpoint is a must-see stop.  It's just breathtaking.

Between here and Rockaway, one drives through Manzanita, Wheeler, Nehalem and Arch Cape. Each is different and each is beautiful in their own way and I can't even begin to describe the smells or sounds, which is why it's vitally important to make the trip with the windows rolled down.

Jess and I spent time together eating ice cream, watching the ocean, talking about her adventures in Hawaii, spending time with her amazing family and laughing in the sand on the beach.

I left that afternoon feeling strangely settled in my life.  That was the first time I'd been to Family Camp in 4 years and definitely the first time I'd ever been solely on my own, and with the freedom to come and go as I please, driving myself to and from.

It was strange, but good.

Later that afternoon I was doing some writing back home on my beloved Cannon Beach when a stranger walked up to me and asked me if I was using the pile of driftwood I was sitting next to.

The conversation went as follows:

Him: "Are you using this firewood?"
Me: "No, go ahead and take it."
Him:  "Thanks.  What are you working on, there?"
Me: "Uhm, just reading over some stuff I've written."
Him: "Way cool! Are you a writer?"
Me: "Yes. Well. Sort of."
Him: "Me too. I love poetry and short stories."
Me: "Yeah, I kind of suck at poetry. I try to stay away from it."
Him: "Well at least with poetry you don't have to stick to the rules, you can do freeform and then it's not so hard."
Me: "Yeah, I guess so."
Him: "Hey, keep writing.  There's not enough writers out there in the world- not many with balls at least. Don't let your passion die- it's better to do what you love than nothing at all."
Me: "Thanks, I definitely will."
Him: "No problem.  There's  gonna be a fire over here later, if you're interested. You should come."
Me: "Uhh, okay thanks."

(Don't worry mom, I did not attend the bonfire with the friendly strange man)

That conversation honestly made my day, though.  I mean, what are the odds?

I felt like God was verifying everything I dream about in life.  It just felt good.

I love this town to no end.

I love my life.

My friends.

My boys.

My Brook, my Zach, my Wes, my Allen- all sweet, dear ones.

I love my girls.

My Lynn, my Angie, my Rachel, my LaChelle- all lovely, funny ones.

I love my jobs- my singing barnacles and my tufted puffins,  and my age-old linens, my perfume-scented tea towels and my beautiful bosses.

I love my house-ghetto and falling apart as it is.

I love my car- my sexy race-car driven Volvo wagon.  She's such a beast.

I love my secret spots.  My Ozzy B.  My cove.  My Guanos Tan spot.  My favorite lookout.

I love my community.  My local discount.  My quirky, fellow citizens.  My weekly burger nights at the local legion hall.

I love my experiences: latenight longboarding,  rainy days at the park, early morning beach exploration, bonfires, salsa dancing, crazy adventure hikes.

This is how my life should always be.

I love my Ocean.

I love my life.