As I mentioned in the introduction of my photo post of San Diego, that hot pink poster represents something in my life that I’ve always dreamed I could be.
Creative Commons credit: montereymedia
Growing up in Spokane, Washington a city more nearly equated to Idaho than any big ocean waves meant that my dream was always just that. When I moved to Seattle, I was so consumed in my life at school that I forgot that one day I had dreamed of surfing in the waves of the Pacific and the dream fizzled out, left on the back burner. When my plane touched down in Sydney back in 2009, the flame began to flicker and one of the first things I did was book myself into a three-day surf school. Now was my time, I was going to become a surfer. But then another six months passed of my being in Australia, and I hadn’t picked up another board. I just couldn’t brave the waves alone, I needed a surf buddy. But they never came.
Fast forward to Portugal in the summer of 2010 and there I was again, surfboard in hand, like someone re-learning how to walk, I struggled to even perfect my stance on the board. More than a year had passed since I’d last felt a board beneath my feet and I’d lost nearly all the meager knowledge I had ever held when it came to surfing.
Yet the dream remained.
As we cruised down the Pacific Coast Highway, all the way from Monterey to San Diego I thought, what better place. But the howling wind and the sudden density of dark grey clouds reminded me that summer on the Pacific Coast was in hiding this month. Regardless, I couldn’t keep the dream at bay. As we walked along the Mission Beach Boardwalk and the sun began sinking down over the water, visions of a life I never had began flashing before my eyes.
It was then that I realized I’d been pushing the thoughts out of my mind. At twenty-four years old, I’ve theoretically still got plenty of life in front of me. I have time to explore and decide what it is that I want in the world, but in reality it’s been six years now that I’ve been independent enough to decide where I want to live, and I’ve yet to choose a house near the beach. My entire childhood I would watch on TV as the California kids ran out into the surf from their front door. I would watch Hollywood sunset over the Hollywood water from my couch and dream that one day I’d have that same view. I would thrive on Fridays that Lorenzo and I would pack up our belongings and spend a weekend shut off from the world outside on the white sandy beaches of Rosignano Marittimo.
Now that we’re here, back in Sydney, I’m in the perfect position to live out my dream, yet somehow we’ve planted ourselves almost directly in the middle of the city. As the weather is warming and that famously harsh Australian sun is starting to hang out just a little longer each day I have to reconsider my choices and question myself on why I keep putting off the dream as if it’s not as important as all the other ones. I think the weather in Sydney is going to warm up considerably in the next few weeks and as it does, I’ll be ready, it’s time to get back on that surfboard! Who’s with me?
