Chapter Two: BEACH BUM
Aliso Viejo, where the views are breathtaking and the ocean extends just a few miles up the road. I ran there often for both torture and leisure. It was a two for one deal; I get my exercise out of the way early, then get to enjoy the elements of Laguna Beach.
As you've probably witnessed, there are certain beaches where the water faintly loses color and becomes a dull, murky substance. Certain beaches where washed-up seaweed may just as well be an invitation for gnats and other unwelcome pests. Certain beaches where the tides are so strong they leave millions of shells spanning the beach surface, leaving visitors angry and injured.
Laguna is not that kind of beach. Its' ocean is always a deep blue and the palm trees, a pigmented green. Oooh, the sand, I could write endless poems solely about the sand. Its' texture is silky and its' color, a milky beige; almost frappuccino-like. Though, never cold. No. You see, the sun sits at the perfect distance, heating the sand to a suitable temperature for barefoot walks along the coast.
In fact, it's rumored that Laguna is situated in the goldy lock zone of beaches. The water, the sand, the climate, everything... not too hot, not too cold, but just right to sustain long visits and maintain regular traffic. Sure, I may have started that rumor myself but I'm not wrong.
Did I mention the dolphins? You'll see them in pairs leaping out of the water at sunrise and sunset each day, like clockwork. I have mixed feelings about it all. To be honest, it's enchanting yet kind-of twilight-zone(y).
As you can imagine, I spent most of my days laying on that poetic sand, daydreaming, reading, writing, and more often than not, people watching.
At nightfall, I was always reluctant to leave my Paradise, but there was always tomorrow. And, in light my adieus, I was genuinely happy to make my way home to my two loving aunts who housed, parented and fed me daily.
My father's youngest sister, Peggy, had a stable M-F 9-5 job working as an ESL Teacher at MT. SAC; a junior college nearby. Her wife, Young, who struggles with Muscular Dystrophy (for as long as I can remember) didn't work at the time. Instead, she gained her strength through sleep and lots of it. Lincoln and I were their only children. We got along most of the time, except for when his pouting became an exaggeration for attention. For fear of losing I never fought with him over it. Instead, I made sure to be on my best behavior. A single fight with Lincoln could kick me to the beach-side curb. And as lovely as that sounded, I wasn't ready to be homeless. But honestly, Lincoln and I didn't have many tiffs. No, we were just a couple of siblings familiar with one another's boundaries. In short, he really was the best multi-poo brother a girl could ask for.
I'd be lying if I said my aunts loved us equally. Nonetheless, they spoiled us both rotten. While Aunt Young made sure I was getting my micros and macros through nutritious foods, Aunt Peggy made sure I was enjoying the kind of food that will probably one day be my doom. They had mom and dad written all over them. It was like I never even left home.
All side-tracking aside, this is really where the story begins.
Aliso Viejo, where the views are breathtaking and the ocean extends just a few miles up the road. I ran there often for both torture and leisure. It was a two for one deal; I get my exercise out of the way early, then get to enjoy the elements of Laguna Beach.
As you've probably witnessed, there are certain beaches where the water faintly loses color and becomes a dull, murky substance. Certain beaches where washed-up seaweed may just as well be an invitation for gnats and other unwelcome pests. Certain beaches where the tides are so strong they leave millions of shells spanning the beach surface, leaving visitors angry and injured.
Laguna is not that kind of beach. Its' ocean is always a deep blue and the palm trees, a pigmented green. Oooh, the sand, I could write endless poems solely about the sand. Its' texture is silky and its' color, a milky beige; almost frappuccino-like. Though, never cold. No. You see, the sun sits at the perfect distance, heating the sand to a suitable temperature for barefoot walks along the coast.
In fact, it's rumored that Laguna is situated in the goldy lock zone of beaches. The water, the sand, the climate, everything... not too hot, not too cold, but just right to sustain long visits and maintain regular traffic. Sure, I may have started that rumor myself but I'm not wrong.
Did I mention the dolphins? You'll see them in pairs leaping out of the water at sunrise and sunset each day, like clockwork. I have mixed feelings about it all. To be honest, it's enchanting yet kind-of twilight-zone(y).
As you can imagine, I spent most of my days laying on that poetic sand, daydreaming, reading, writing, and more often than not, people watching.
At nightfall, I was always reluctant to leave my Paradise, but there was always tomorrow. And, in light my adieus, I was genuinely happy to make my way home to my two loving aunts who housed, parented and fed me daily.
My father's youngest sister, Peggy, had a stable M-F 9-5 job working as an ESL Teacher at MT. SAC; a junior college nearby. Her wife, Young, who struggles with Muscular Dystrophy (for as long as I can remember) didn't work at the time. Instead, she gained her strength through sleep and lots of it. Lincoln and I were their only children. We got along most of the time, except for when his pouting became an exaggeration for attention. For fear of losing I never fought with him over it. Instead, I made sure to be on my best behavior. A single fight with Lincoln could kick me to the beach-side curb. And as lovely as that sounded, I wasn't ready to be homeless. But honestly, Lincoln and I didn't have many tiffs. No, we were just a couple of siblings familiar with one another's boundaries. In short, he really was the best multi-poo brother a girl could ask for.
I'd be lying if I said my aunts loved us equally. Nonetheless, they spoiled us both rotten. While Aunt Young made sure I was getting my micros and macros through nutritious foods, Aunt Peggy made sure I was enjoying the kind of food that will probably one day be my doom. They had mom and dad written all over them. It was like I never even left home.
All side-tracking aside, this is really where the story begins.