Last week Scott had spring break and I took some time off from all of my odd jobs. We planned to use our passports, we planned to explore another coast, but it just wasn't in the cards and that was ok. The only thing we really needed was time somewhere different and time together. On Sunday night, we threw our camping stuff in the car and headed north to Malibu to set up shop in Sycamore Canyon for five days.
On Monday, I am obsessed with capturing a creative perspective from our adventure and Instagramming it. The trip has brought me to the perfect place to capture some unique and natural moments and share them, I feel.
By Tuesday, I detest my phone for distracting me and leave it in the tent. In the afternoon, I spend the time between one and two p.m. listening to bird calls and responses and dream up some fantasy of what they're talking about (stealing our food and plotting to takeover the world, I conclude) while watching the dandelion seeds dance in wind like some sort of springtime snowflake.
On Wednesday, we decide to venture out and stop at different fruit stands along the way. Scott tells me how excited he is to have a family together someday and we talk about what we'll call them.
That afternoon, we surf County Line and go for a hike in the Sycamore Canyon. The hike takes us exactly one mile above sea level and offers a view of the coastline from Malibu to Point Mugu.
It's here where I start thinking about life and changes and aging and growing up. Walking down the trail with the same sage smell in my nose that used to be there in my childhood when I would play in the hills behind my school, I jump and skip while halfway singing a 50 Cent song. In this moment, I am my purest self. Even at that, and perhaps because of it, my mind quickly flashes to one of my biggest fears-losing touch with who that is. I mean, getting older messes with you. I've seen it. I worry about the changes life brings and how they will influence me. I just want to know what makes me happy, what makes me me, and hold on to that. I still want to hear the ring of the Christmas bell like the boy in The Polar Express. I don't want to lose sight of the magic in life.
The more I skip down the hill and tangle my wild curls underneath my beanie, the more I realize time has passed, really passed, years have gone by and not that much about me has changed. At least not at my core. And when I see a flock of seagulls swoop past the setting sun and my breath is gone for a little, I realize I can still see the magic.
It's clear to me during this hike how important it is for me to continue to do these things I love-these outdoor adventures-for as long as I can because they awaken my truest self. They help me live the life I need.