29 November 2018

pnw roadtrip | cannon beach + arcadia beach.

again and again these ten months, and even before he was earthside, sweet francis has revealed to us his spirit of adventure. he travels the very way he meets his days: jolly, curious, content, free. wherever he is, he is happy to be there. funnily, he adjusted to west coast time with no struggle; it was the close of daylight savings that very same weekend that turned him topsy-turvy. i thank him for being the reason we saw that much more: in the hour before dawn, he'd stir, we'd rise, and off we'd go, falling in love with someplace new.

like when we bundled into the car when it was still dark, made a stop by voodoo doughnuts (the lone spot open at that hour), wended through forests of olive and ochre and rust, and zoomed toward the sea. the heartbeat of my wish to drive oregon was a photograph i once saw of cannon beach. haystack rising from the sea looked like magic to me, and, oh, how it was. it really was. she stood sentinel in low tide as we filled our hands with seafoam shells and filled our lungs with cedar and spruce and fog. it was just us, belonging to the quiet world around us. we took so many deep breaths that day.

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