Last Friday, Scott and my dad worked on the house while I caught a few storm trooper waves before it was completely dark. After surfing, Scott, my parents and I went to dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant in town. We can only eat there when it's below 60º because we want to thoroughly enjoy the hot spaghetti, red wine and candlelight.
After dinner we went to a surf party with Roberta, but my parents quickly bailed once they realized everyone was under 30 and the only beverage available was Pabst Blue Ribbon.
On Saturday, I was up before the sun. This usually happens. On the day I can sleep in, I'm up at 5:38 listening to Royals, printing pictures off of Pinterest and pasting them into my notebook. It reminds me of waking up before my parents as a kid and finding activities until they were ready to start their own day. I love how quiet it is in the morning. In the afternoon my mom taught me how to hem my Friendsgiving dress.
Though once Monday arrived, all of this weekend lightheartedness seemed to sink down like sand does into the street cracks when it rains. There's been lots of transitions lately with my new part time jobs, but most difficult of all has been coming to the realization that bad people sometimes get their way, and there's definitely been moments of me being that version of myself I don't like. Sometimes I feel like there must be a quota on the amount of things that a person can be struggling with at one time. Like once you reach your breaking point, God will make it stop, but I don't think that's how it works. And anyways, I'm not anywhere near suffering, just trying to sort things out in my head (and probably being a bit dramatic).
Maybe I'm happy for these struggles. Maybe I know they're making me stronger. Maybe I need them like California needs the rain.
Tomorrow 21 people will come over to our house and we will welcome them with open arms and (hopefully) a functioning kitchen and we will laugh and drink and talk and eat and…I think the rain will have been good for us all.