of California.
Of blue water, warm sand, and giant palm trees.
Of the time when I went to California when I was eight and we went to this place called La Hoya near San Diego and it was at sunset, and there were this amazing huge cliffs near the road looking over the ocean. There's a picture of me and Paige crouching on them--we were so little. Whenever I think of La Hoya, I think pink sunsets. It was magical, and I wish I could have appreciated it more.
I'm dreaming of running across a beach at sunset with the sun sinking beneath the waves and shedding light across the water. You know when the water washes up on the shore and makes the sand all slick? I love that.
I look out the window and I see a gray sky, a sprinkling of ice on the ground, a wet street, and the temperature is probably somewhere in the 30's.
Sigh.
Maybe the two above scenarios sound totally cliche, but that's the only way I know how to describe how much I miss the ocean and summer. Warmth. Sunshine. Water. Flipflops (or barefeet--even better!), tank tops, lying at the edge of the water and going all stiff and giggling when the cold water rushes up around me.
At least, if it has to be winter, it could grace us with some snow--preferably around six inches, which is what we got the day after Christmas. But it's just ice.
