As I am somewhat bed-ridden (many thanks to my oral surgeon), I am not quite capable nor willing to go out and take pictures. Luckily, I got back from a senior road trip about a week ago, where I got some pretty good photos. One of our stops was Malibu...a predictable visit for a 5-girls-"beach and shopping beach and shopping beach and shopping"-vacay.
After driving around aimlessly with no real destination in mind, we stumbled upon Paradise Cove. When I say stumble, I mean stumble. I believe the words, "Just turn left here. Worst case scenario, we can turn around and go back to the pier," were said. Though a little cloudy and the water a bit chilly, it was a grand old beach day. I had lunch, I dared myself to go deeper in the water and jump the waves, I sunbathed, wandered around by myself and took pictures, and I got some one on one time exploring the other side of the beach with my friend, Kiki. I called my mom later that day to share my adventures with her. Much to my surprise, sh told me that Paradise Cove happened to be the very first beach I ever went to as an infant. The irony of this tickles my superstitious fancy. This road trip was very much a closure to high school, since the 4 girls I went with are some of my very best friends and we're all going to different colleges next year (very "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants"). It was about saying goodbye to them, high school, and my old self. It was about saying hello to college, the future, and the unknown. So discovering that the first beach I went to as a child was the first beach I went to as an adult? Perfection.
This particular picture was taken when I took that stroll by myself and I randomly turned around, bent down, and got a shot of my footsteps I had just made in the sand. Now that I think about it, it just adds to this whole theme: looking back on the past and how far I've come, the changes that have been made, the path that I've chosen, and all those cliches. Gotta love 'em.
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