east coast west coast

Last week, I spent Wednesday's early morning taking a solo walk through our nation's capitol with an iced starbucks coffee in one hand and my iPhone in the other, my thumb tirelessly skimming the surface of the map app. It is, by the way, moments like this that make me grateful for my iPhone. In the same way that I am grateful for a loving mother, a roof over my head and my daily meal, I'm am thankful for my iPhone. I don't know what I'd do without it. It gave me absolute, head-held-high bravery to walk out of my hotel door, onto the bustling streets of D.C. and miles down Pennsylvania Avenue. I knew I'd be back in time for breakfast. And that a cup of coffee was waiting for me on the opposite side of my second intersection.

That same week, on Saturday evening, I found myself on a similar walk. Only this time, it was evening and I was some 2,000 miles west of the Washington monument. I didn't need my phone because my return destination was perched on a high hill above the beach I traveled to. The only question would be how exactly to climb back up in the darkness that enveloped the landscape after the sun slipped behind the silky Pacific. And where exactly I'd left my shoes. And if it'd be alright to grace the marbled lobby of my hotel in my sea splashed jeans and freshly salted hair.