Daily Archives: July 15, 2023

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A-typical

My daughter and I went to Rialto Beach two days ago. We hiked the beach, returned and found our campsite. I bought my lifetime National Park Pass, but the park sites were full. We found a nearby private campsite that was just fine. My daughter gave it an A- for restrooms, a B for the sinks with hoses bringing cold water and a D for the regular not-bear-proof garbage cans.

After setting up the tent and dinner, we returned to Rialto for the sunset. Quite gorgeous, with the sun sinking in to the Pacific.

Earlier a ranger checked in when we were past Hole in the Wall. My daughter said, “Low tide at 3:45 and we will head back soon after that.” He grinned. Hole in the Wall is full of water when the tide is in. We could cross via a path over and behind the rock.

We wanted to see a whale, but mostly we saw rocks that were not whales. The tidepools are gorgeous.

There also were lots of brown pelicans. Wow, can they fly beautifully. My daughter points out that they look way more like airplanes than either eagles or great blue herons. It’s the wide body and the landing gear retracted and the really long glides.

They can stall and then dive.

We had a lovely trip. Meanwhile, I did not take my laptop. TYPING WITHDRAWAL! I had my journal, of course.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: type.

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Rescue

A friend stops speaking to me. Nearly a year ago. I particularly mind because this person said, “We will always be friends, no matter what.” I am skeptical of always/never statements, but I want it to be true.

I run across him and he is in trouble. He has boxes, cases, six by four by six feet. Stuff he finds valuable, though it’s not anything I value. He is outside with the cases and is being threatened, told to hand them over.

It’s not a dramatic rescue. I just walk up and say “Hi,” to him. I am there, I am a witness, I look over my shoulder. There isn’t anyone else with me, but the implication is there. The threatening person leaves.

The former friend looks at me. “We’d better get the boxes inside,” I say, “Until you can move them.” We are by my house. “You can have upstairs and I’ll take the basement.” He looks uncomfortable, but he can’t leave his valuables on the street. “Or I will take upstairs and you the basement.” He still looks awkward. “Ok, or we can both be on the same floor, I don’t care.” He looks away. He says, “If we are on the same floor, I will want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” I say, and wake up. It’s a dream. It’s not him. It’s what my brain thinks he could/should be? Good luck with that.

Still, I decide that we should be on different floors. He has not spoken to me for a year and I don’t trust the friendship and certainly no kissing. I want him out of my house as soon as he can arrange transport for the four boxes. If he wants to renew the friendship then, he can contact me.

However, there is a shift in me. How odd that a dream can do that. I feel less upset about the whole thing. I like the version of him that my dream brought me, even though it isn’t real. It’s real in my dreams. Maybe that is enough. I feel more comfortable and happy.

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I took the photograph two days ago at Rialto Beach. The Hole in the Wall rock looks like a giant elephant. My daughter and I hiked the beach and camped for a night near by.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: karma.