Being Human

Jeff and I met in college when we were 18 years old and started dating the summer we both turned 19. Those early days were full of adventure as we explored the California coast with impromptu camping trips and beach vacations. We both shared a love of nature and wildlife and spent much of our time soaking in the beauty around us and keeping an eye out for animals nearby. We marveled at the hidden complexity of tidepools and were especially delighted to catch glimpses of sea lions or otters swimming within the kelp beds close to us. No matter where we were at the end of each day, we stopped to watch the sun descend with deep appreciation that we were able to witness such colors in the sky, and reflected on the landscape. The sunset always seemed like the perfect ending to a full day of activities.

Years later, after we were married and had children, we revisited some of the special spots we enjoyed while dating and found many new ones together. We shared our love of nature with the family, teaching our kids to respect their surroundings and to be open to opportunities that presented themselves. If a deer suddenly lifted its head from the grassy meadow, they knew to be still, silently taking in the experience. If we came to a trail we hadn’t expected, we would choose it. We found so many cool places just by going with the flow and asking, “I wonder what’s down there?” My hope over the years was that our family vacations would instill fond memories of the amazing sights and the good times we shared outdoors.

Jump to some 40 years later – Jeff and I recently celebrated our 33^rd wedding anniversary and headed up the coast for a quick getaway. This time it was just the two of us. After we wrestled the highway construction traffic along the route, we finally arrived in Cambria, a town we had been through but had never stayed. We quickly checked in to our quaint hotel room then headed to the boardwalk and down to the beach. We were alone as we walked along the rocks and gazed at the horizon, hoping for the chance to see wildlife while the sun sank lower in the sky. Its glow brought back so many memories of the sunsets we had shared years before. We sat down on the rocks as the orange ball descended then, ultimately, met the sea. We were completely at peace and everything else seemed to disappear as husband and wife reconnected there under the illuminated sky.

We knew we needed to get back to the hotel before dark so we climbed back up to the boardwalk. Then something even more miraculous happened. As we ascended, we noticed small clusters of people scattered here and there, all standing and facing west. Humans were simply enjoying the beautiful sky with looks of contentment on their faces. The only sound we heard was the rumble of the ocean. As we silently strolled among the dozens of small groups gathered along the wood planks, I realized that what we were witnessing was humanity at its finest. There wasn’t anyone hurrying to a meeting. No one was espousing a political opinion. No angry words were uttered. Everyone had stopped and they were all doing the exact same thing at the exact same time. It was unbelievably beautiful.

I said quietly to the last group as we passed, “I love that you are all loving this” and heard a low murmur of agreement.

Jeff and I returning to our roots was an excellent reminder for us to slow down and enjoy the earthly gifts around us. We won’t soon forget the things we discovered both outdoors and within our hearts that weekend.

Susan Bolan
susanbolan710@gmail.com