Welcome to California

Talk about "oh dark thirty". The alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. Tom (DH) was already in the shower, I followed him after I drained the carafe of yesterday's coffee.  At 3:30, coffee only helped a little.  We finished loading both cars and headed to Dulles for my 6 a.m. flight. Kiss and hug goodbye and I was off, bleary-eyed but thankful I wasn't one of the ones facing a 15 hour cross-country drive in 100+ degrees (well, not yet anyway).

As my boys (DH & DS, Danny) drove off I said a prayer for their safe travel.  I was really trying not to worry, but...

The 5 hour flight to San Francisco was unremarkable, for the most part.  I slept pretty well until I felt a rush of cold liquid pour through the seat in front of me and onto my feet.  The family in that row had lost control of a rowdy can of seltzer.  (Yes, I was thankful to discover it was seltzer and not ... anything else.) Finally found my connecting gate after a very confusing walk through the International Terminal (no monitors showing anything BUT int'l flights).  Rewarded by a Peets coffee booth adjacent to the gate.  This time, it helped (thank you sf ff mocha!).

A short hop down to Orange County/Santa Ana/John Wayne Airport and I was almost there.  (Seriously, is there another airport out there with such an obvious identity problem?  Three names? Really?)

An hour later I found myself watching the waves crash on the little beach where I grew up. I hadn't felt this relaxed in a very long time. I also hadn't felt so warmly welcomed by a place in recent memory.  A flight of 20 brown pelicans accompanied me on my walk down to the beach.  A dolphin swam by to say hi.  And the harbor seal that usually makes an appearance swimming across the cove once a day actually swam by 4 times (at least) and came closer to shore than I've ever seen him (her?).  Probably only 10 or 12 feet from water's edge.

I did feel a little guilty when I received the text that my boys were stuck in a traffic jam on the Illinois state line...in 108 degrees...and Danny has no AC in his car.  But felt better once they got word to me they'd arrived safely at Grandma and Grandpa's Missouri home.  Both boys commented on how nice it was to be in a cool place.  I didn't mention that here it was 75 degrees and sunny with a lovely ocean breeze.

Knowing I needed to move, I left my sister sleeping in the sun (she'd done a five mile walk earlier in the day) and headed down the beach to stretch my legs.  It occurred to me about halfway through my 2 + miles that, in the eyes of the kids building sandcastles, the surfers watching the waves roll in, and the young couples trying to occupy the same space, I was now the "old lady walking on the beach".  While I was growing up, there was always at least one.  Usually she wore a floppy hat, always she walked with a purpose.  Now I understand that purpose.  As I approach 50 like a train running downhill I finally appreciate what my mom, aunts, and older female friends have always said.  "It gets harder and harder to stay fit, to keep the extra pounds off, as you get older".  I really thought I already understood it after hitting 40 and struggling.  But it really gets worse with each year. So I walk.  With a purpose.