The 405 likes to dance and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can dance with him for miles right through the golden hills.
I always hesitate at the edge of the Ocean before putting my toes into the water. There’s something about touching the edge of an entity so vast that gives me pause. I think about cold depths, miles of just water touching sky, and all that the Ocean must know in its millennia of being.
A couple of weeks ago, a box arrived from my cousin with birthday gifts for my daughter. When I opened it the smell of her house filled the air. I was immediately back there. Her home smells like clean linen and a bit of powdery lavender with hint of pine and humidity. We live almost 2,000 miles apart, but the scent travelled in the box as surely as if it were carefully packed and placed there. Strange how that happens.