I don't remember if I had visited this place at the age of nine on that trip with my Grandmother P. I have to imagine so.
It was windy. The sun was low. The surf was pounding. You could hear the birds and sea otters crying. My son and his friends went on ahead, climbing the rock peaks and making their way down to the water. My husband and I attempted a selfie.
This was a time to imprint the memory in our souls.
As we were leaving in the car, we talked about this perfect ending to our trip. My son's friend, a marine stationed in Monterey, planned his return to Point Lobos to show his girlfriend.
No comments:
Post a Comment