Jogging barefoot in the warming sun
Toward a mountain of red wood, green fir and hanging mist
I hunt for rocks like easter eggs along the coast of Crescent City.
One by one, they suddenly appear under my wandering gaze, a flash of color glistening under salt water and wet sand...
I can't help but pick them up.
I love how they feel in my hands.
I like to think that over time, life washes us smooth like these rocks, aging us just a little further, but never stealing us of our true color...
If anything, we are made even more vibrant with each wave.