Rachel and Rhys went to the beach today. I had opted to work this holiday. So be it, though now that the day is nearly done whatever longing I had for the beach has passed, mostly.
Since living here we have yet to sit on the beach and watch the sun sink into the Pacific together. Us, the boy, and the dog. Eating oysters and feeling the moment come to its natural close. A thing I imagined would become regular practice when I attempted to peer into the future from my perch atop the past.
Once, we went to Monterey and walked out onto a pier towards the end of the day after dinner, then heading back to the hotel before the setting to put the boy down to sleep, to make the room as dark as possible. To calm the excited mind of a child.
This morning, I made myself steak and eggs. I am getting marginally better at cooking. Yesterday, there was a dish of my own invention; chicken, mushroom, green beans, soy sauce and onions. I was so proud of myself that I sent a picture to a friend.
I have become a forty-six year old latchkey kid.
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