So my first day back from a trip is always a little, shall we say, disorienting for me. Not exactly jet lag…more rooted in nostalgia. I lament the place I just was and find myself asking how I got to the place I am now. I know that I went to the airport and boarded an airplane and flew through the clouds, but how did I get here? Didn’t I basically just time travel? I think this gives me license to ease back into things at a slow and steady pace.
Which is why, beginning a couple years ago, I made it a personal rule to always (within reason) arrive back home during the evening hours. Doing this allows me to more easily settle into my routine. I can take a leisurely walk outside before hunting down some dinner or catching up with a friend, watch a familiar television show, and eventually go to sleep in my own bed knowing that I will wake up fresh and fully oriented the next morning. You may be thinking that I’m coddling myself, and maybe I am, but this attention to detail has been working…working to lessen my emotional grip on the place I last visited, especially if that last place was with family.
Returning home to Hermosa Beach is like returning to the basics. I make sure to get my toes in the sand and hop on my two-speed companion, Miles, to reclaim that sense of ‘wind in your hair’ freedom. Coming home, I often feel a new surge of energy and spike of creativity flowing through my veins. Traveling and being on the road brings about inspiration, but only so far as you allow your mind to rest and wander aimlessly.
On my first day back from east coast adventuring, I returned to making my morning cup of pour-over coffee. I responded to emails, connected with clients, and completed a few hours of work before setting out on a pier-to-pier beach run. So many ocean-goers—from the meek toddler to the bold surfer—were out there enjoying the waves and early summertime rays. After a quick shower and change, I covered the same distance, only this time by bike. Miles and I cruised The Strand at a leisurely pace, occasionally dodging sand pockets leftover from previous wind spells. With a farmer’s market dinner in my satchel, a new magazine under my arm, and my house keys on my wrist came the realization that a beautiful lifestyle is simple, and my lifestyle is simply beautiful.