It happens every time.
I never want to leave.
I never want to go home because part of me already feels like I’m home.
I always cry a little, but they’re never sad tears. They’re happy tears.
That’s part of who I am. I’m the woman who cries happy tears and then people look at me like there’s something seriously wrong. They wonder what’s wrong, but tears are not only meant for sorrow and pain. They’re an emotion, a way of expression. I’ve cried happy tears many times before. They’re tears of joy, of having been part of something that I never thought possible, of wishing there was more time because I don’t want it to end, of experiencing and living. They’re tears of such an overwhelming joy that maybe there aren’t any words to describe it.
So on my last night in California I walked down to the beach and watched the sunset. I dug my toes in the sand and sat on the beach. I listened to the ocean and closed my eyes as the breeze came off the water. I breathed in deep the smell of salt. I walked down to the edge and let the water wash over my feet before wading in further and further. Time seemed to disappear, to stand still, as it always does when I’m by the ocean. Reluctantly, I walked the shoreline back to the hotel.
That night I sat outside in the dark for awhile. I listened to the ocean and watched the clouds drift over the moon as it lit the sky. I closed my eyes and fought back tears. I didn’t want to go home, not when it felt like I was leaving a piece of my heart behind.
But then I remembered I’d be coming back. It made it slightly easier to leave knowing that the promise of a return was in the future.
To view more photos of California please click here.