A Saturday in Santa Cruz

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Yesterday was one of those idyllic Saturdays.

I’m not sure if he knows how the sun scatters across his skin; caramel and mocha. We are laying on the beach under a cloudless sky; he rescues me in ways he doesn’t even realize. He makes my world a little more beautiful. With his warm voice and sweet kisses. Like harmony and honey. I watch the Ferris wheel along the boardwalk spin round and round. A colorful pinwheel surrounded by the scent of pink cotton candy and kettle corn. We are belly laughs and rose gold cheeks. I cannot fully describe this feeling in my stomach. Something like joy and nostalgia and I’m looking at him and realizing he is my future. Something like that. And pretty soon he is taking me by the hand and we find solace from the sun in that arcade in a building shaped like a castle. We giggle like children racing video game cars, we sweat playing repeated rounds of foozball, and we fall in love in a photo booth stitched together by white walls and black curtains. Photo frames made of hearts and x’s and o’s. Our love is fireworks, firecrackers, and fireflies. Our love is fire.

I can’t help but think to myself, what a wonderful place this is. With him, reminiscing about our childhood and how we both used to be masters at Pac Man and Street Fighter. How we both battle the same demons. How we both understand the other better than anyone else will. “It’s nice, being able to tell you things,” he says to me. We share a peach and mango smoothie and an iced coffee. I collapse into him and his lips meet mine. He tastes like farmer’s market fruit; I like roasted coffee grounds and vanilla. We ride the swing carousel; we watch the people beneath us, watch the waves crash against sand castles and bare feet. We rise – up and down, my palms stick to the metal chains. I reach back and grab his fingers, and around and around we go. My lungs fill with saltwater air and I hear his heartbeat in my hair. We are flying, swallowing this city whole, in gulps and guzzles. He falls asleep in the passenger’s seat with his hand against my thigh as I drive us home, watching the sun fall beneath the redwoods. I see a horizon of blood orange and mahogany. I quietly thank him for discovering me, for sharing the same space among the stars, for vulnerability, for endless possibilities.

Comments

  1. I live near Santa Cruz, so this was a cute story to read ^__^

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