My morning routine has taken a reflective turn, literally. At the top of the first hill on 190th, and depending on the morning's clarity, I am gifted with a brief (but so satisfying) look at the ocean behind me via my rear view mirror. Often coupled with 105.1's national anthem or Big Boy's casual chatter (both of which offering very distinct accompaniments), I'm hit with a wave of graciousness. I am so fortunate.
And as if that weren't enough, I see the sun in reverse on my drive home. The colors are vivid and electric and I swear I haven't seen a single hue repeat itself in the 8 months I've lived by the beach.
Sunrise and sunset, nature's bookends. It appears as though they hold me up as well.
[Hermosa Beach sunset image via
mstlouis]
I love him for his intelligence, his sensitivity, his courage. I love him wholly and unconditionally without reservation. I love him enough to take risks. I love him enough to accept my own happiness and use it, in turn, to make him happy back.
I must learn to love the fool in me, the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.
I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
