It's before dinner and we find ourselves oddly at a seashore boardwalk, complete with games and rides and slightly sweet Chinese popcorn.
That's when it hits me. That's the Pacific Ocean right there. My Pacific ocean. From the other side.
I'm running towards the water. Remembering a time when Donna and I ran on a moonless night towards the distant sound of the surf, more distant than we realized, peeling off clothes that only the best of luck allowed us to find again later, shivering.
I had to touch this water. From the other side.
It was a little warm and a little brown and I felt a little silly. But pleased.
