Halfway across the sand, I kicked off my shoes, rolled up the bottoms of my jeans, and walked barefoot, hoping that LA county keeps up with making sure the beaches don’t get full of broken bottles and used needles. There were people around, but not a crazy amount, and it was easy to walk in a relatively straight line to the water without coming near anybody.
I stopped at the water and watched the waves curl around my ankles. It was the first refreshing, relaxing thing that had happened to me in at least twenty hours. My brain felt full of static from sleep deprivation and not enough food, I was still wearing wool-lined jeans, because I’d left Denver at 5:00am when it was about 13 degrees outside. I was wearing a backpack and carrying my jacket and felt like I’d just been dropped on a warm, balmy moon. Maybe it’s easier to fall into a meditative-like headspace when you’re nearing total exhaustion, or maybe it’s just easier when you can work your feet into the earth below you, when the water greets you with a cool, refreshing spray.
I walked along the beach away from the people, no plan in mind, just taking in each moment. Being too tired to be able to do much else besides enjoy where I was, too tired to even sit down. Not even trying to think, not needing to accomplish anything. Just feeling the cool water and being.