I had one of those transcendental road trip moments last night as I drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, somewhere between San Francisco and Tomales Bay. The sun was about to set, and the air was damp and chilly, but I still had both of my front windows down, sailing my hand through the air next to the side mirror, letting the wind whip my face and breathing in the smell of eucalyptus and wildflowers as I wound my way through tree tunnels and meadows lined with pine forests. The ocean was over a ridge to the left, and on my right were rolling hills that looked like green, fluffy pillows, spotted with blooming bushes and the occasional cow.
I found a jazz station on the radio and something about it made my heart feel full, so I let it stick. If you're ever driving alone through Point Reyes National Seashore at dusk with a sleepy mind full of a million thoughts and you feel alive and confused and scared and overwhelmed and excited and have no idea what the hell you're doing with your life, I highly recommend listening to some jazz - especially this song and this song and this song, and this, this, this song:
I left Los Angeles yesterday. I would say it's for good, but one of my new life mottos is Never Say Never, so I'm going to leave it at that. I'm on the extended scenic route back to Minnesota, and I'm taking it one day at a time, booking rooms as I go. There are so many opportunities to pull over and take pictures in Northern California that I could probably never make it home and be perfectly content. But my mom wouldn't like that, so I'm using these fleeting moments I have in my new favorite place on earth as inspiration to return someday, perhaps as a frequent visitor, perhaps permanently. TBD.
Happy weekending, friends.