As soon as I’d step off that bus, it was that distinct Santa Monica breeze that would kiss my face and greet me welcome. The Promenade in September was just perfect–not too warm and not too cold and it was there that I’d just take a break from the world and wallow in my thoughts with a coffee cup in hand, while I sit on a curb and gaze at the sensational street performers as people walk by. The sense of both freedom and loneliness intertwined at that moment became so overwhelming it was hard to tell which one was more powerful.
I took all the sights in: the Santa Monica Pier, Yankee Doodles–the venue of some of my indiscretions(!?),–Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf or Starbucks, chic ladies and dashing men, laughing, talking and oblivious to whatever was beyond the realm of the Promenade. It felt like a papercut realizing how sad it was that I couldn’t share this moment with anyone. Not to mention how exasperating it was to have to resort to bugging some hapless, random stranger to take my photo.
Someday I’ll come back and frolic along this path: with the sea breeze in my hair and a warm hand clutching mine on a nippy, golden afternoon. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t look so solitary then and neither will there be any home-sickness. This place will always be one of my favorites.
The Chronic Vacacionista 