some days are just best begun down by the shore.

when the crosswalks, horn honks and lanes un-merging crescendo into an all too-heavy dubstep beat of stress and madness, a sunrise visit to the sand quaaludes all the family members into a simpler mien where shoes and socks reign amiss. 

flit, whirl, tumble and fly- all across the edge of the sea. we perform the dance of our lives, for an audience of waves, surfers, and seagulls. 

with each pirouette i feel my heart softening and my tears drying. we ronde de jambe our toes in the water and smile up at the sun, feeling the silly come back into our lives and warmth sink onto our skin. 

rounding out our routine are a series of gutty, but thrilling grand jetés. jones and i don’t quite nail our landings, but for a second we thought we were going to have to call the coast guard on priscilla. she could have jeté’d her pretty self all the way to oregon. 

as we take our final bows and pick up the laudatory bouquets of roses and congratulatory tossed seashells, our tongues hang long and taffy-like. we are exhausted from the effort of our performance, but mostly we are exhilarated and can’t contain the bounding joy spilling forth out of our souls {and mouths.}

some days just call for rockin’ the ludicrous and sadness out your heavy, city boots.

these are the days.