Newport

Reading into my escape. I take some time to update my mind on what really has been occurring that makes me feel this real. The simple gestures that give me release are catapulting in front of me. Long bike rides where the breeze glides through my salted hair, the simple look that Vivi gives me when the rollerblader in spandex goes by, the puddle that I fall into, the football that Tommy threw to me halfway across Plaza del norte and the grumpy neighbor that was jealous that we were in the middle of the street laughing too hard, the ankle high wave that I aggressively body moved while standing the whole way down the white water, the drowsy eyes that closed while I read the Sandman with an 8 year old. The fresh pacific fish that I marinated and which melted in my mouth, the roar of a wagoneer rolling down pacific highway, the silent neighborhood that remembers me like our time never ended, the long beach that I step my foot on and free my soul, my cousin who inspires me to enjoy, live, laugh, and eventually, be a loving parent and inspiring mentor. The life that I am meant to live. I am in it. When I get home and I am cozy in my small nook with the snow pedaling and subtlely dressing the outside of my window I will remember the feel of a barefoot walk to an empty beach, the plummet of my soul into an ocean, the smell of my hair after a long day of breeze, and the love of my cousins cozied up in Newport eating italian food, playing in the street, doing their homework and singing in the shower.