I just stole this photo from my sister's blog. It's as horrific as anything I can imagine, so of course I feel a need to re-post it. I shake in disbelief that I looked like that. But, it does bring back good memories of one of the most special beaches in my heart. My mother's ashes were spread in the water just offshore. I spent most of my free time in the water and on the sand, until I got my license and started driving to some of the other breaks.
There's something that just doesn't suck about the beach.
I also got this today, in a message from Craig Watson who grew up very close to these cliffs. When we were young and foolish, we jumped off spitting caves a lot. Jon Everest even did his fiction and film project with a small segment of Rob and I jumping off, some sort of Phoenix rising from the ashes theme, which never really made any sense to me.
I fly back home on Friday. Every trip home is a blessing, every return trip is a tragedy. Maybe some day I won't leave for a really long time.