My Best Day

Seven months ago this week, Chris met me in Seattle for the last leg of my big adventure. We decided to meander southward into Oregon before returning to Minnesota. 


Our first destination: Long Beach, Wash., a charming coastal town with an isolated, laid-back vibe and cottage-like police station adorned in Christmas decorations. We checked into a no-tell motel with a decent view and some significant and slightly unnerving stains on the floor - remnants of a drunken night or, perhaps, a drug deal gone wrong. I'd just come down with full-body aches, tremor-inducing chills and a raging sore throat. Everything about it said, "Bad idea. Turn home now."

That night, we walked down the dark road to the beach and listened as angry waves crashed along the shore. Their silvery outlines cut through the dark. No stars, moon or city lights illuminated the sky. Night swallowed us whole. This place where water and sky dominate stripped everything else away to reveal our insignificance. No camera could capture the scene, yet my memory recalls it with all five senses. Never has such surrealism touched my waking life.

Leaving so quickly next morning only fueled the sense it never happened. After we combed the beach at sunrise, I stalled. Perhaps we could disappear here, I thought. Chris could build furniture, and I'd write for the local newspaper. We'd fix up an inexpensive, run-down cottage and live in absolute simplicity. If I do one thing consistently well, it's dream.

Soon we left Washington and my fantasy behind. We stopped in Oregon communities such as Canon Beach, Wheeler and Oceanside. Tourist season long since gone, few people crossed our paths. We wandered, searching for shells and hoping luck might grant us a rare Japanese fishing float. One beach offered sand dollars, another smooth black rocks. I pocketed some treasures and dipped my toes in the crisp November waters. We dined on shrimp, scallops and halibut for lunch and drank hot coffee from seaside shacks. The day, despite its brevity and thriftyness, seemed infinite and decadent.

This 24-hour-period - captured rather hastily here - defined for me the concepts of pure joy, wonder and ease. It may be my best day. It's easily my favorite in eight years with Chris. We found a string of rare moments in which yesterday and tomorrow ceased to exist. We simply discovered, together.