Live on a Beach

I came to Greece without too many intentions.  To settle a while, see old friends, get to know a place on an intimate level.  It was such an easy and natural choice that I jumped into it without hesitation.  I went to China to visit friends, and cross off an item on the list.  The list was in the forefront of my mind when I bought that ticket.  I thought that from Greece it would be much easier to make it to Spain and France, and so that plan came to light, two more checks from the list.  As for actually being in Greece, I didn't think the list would be involved, didn't see a way it would.  It was my mom who first mentioned it, "what about living on a beach? You are already doing that.".  I thought it over, and, technically I don't live on a beach.  Not on it.  But we discussed it.  I wake up and I see the sea.  I jump over the back wall and in 4 minutes I'm swimming in the Ionian.  I don't know, maybe I am stretching it a bit, but my family gave me the go ahead, and so I went.  And it's done.  

I woke early, wanting to spend the afternoon at the sea, contemplating the location and being in the sun.  Together Lo, Abbey and I walked through Pogonia with our instruments, up the hills and out and around the sides of the mountains, down the little dirt road, across a grass field and onto our favorite beach.  We sat on the rocks and watched the ocean lunge toward us at regular intervals.  The sun was out and we swam regularly to cool down our heated skin.  I had the ashes in my backpack, knowing I would spread them here, but not sure when. Or how I would go about it.  So we killed time playing our guitars.  The church behind us sat solitary in its grass field, watching our backs as we lounged, laughed, loved every note we played, and the fact that we were together.  I appreciated them coming with me, appreciated them for knowing me, knowing my dad.  For not passing judgement about what I was doing, not thinking it was strange, or morbid, like I often feel some people might, but just loving without hesitation. 

Enveloped in that girly roommate love, we let the afternoon pass us by.

When evening was creeping silently behind us, I figured I needed to get on with it.  We played one last song, to the air, the sea, the beach, the church, to my dad and to each other.  A song that seemed all too appropriate: "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys" by Willie Nelson.  And with that we waded into the sea.  I held the small plastic container of ashes in my hand, and we told some stories of Papa Kaas.  Ones Abbey and I both knew, of concerts and dinners, him visiting California, first impressions and last impressions, and all the drinks and stories that regularly accompanied his visits.  We all took turns, emptying the container little by little into early evening's clear blue water, watching it soak in slowly, dissipating amongst the salt and the life that exists in the rhythmic ebb and flow of the Ionian.  He became a part of it.

And the interesting thing about this list is trying to decipher why these certain items made it on.  From what I remember about summer vacations with my parents to beach houses is my mom and I relaxing on the sand, content in swimming and sunbathing and reading all day.  What I remember from my dad is sheer boredom.  But I trust in his list, with the editing he did I don't think "live on a beach" would still be on there if he didn't want to someday actually do that.  Even if just for the romanticism of the whole idea, he wrote it, so I've done it.

Tonight I am leaving on a night ferry for Italy, then Spain, and lastly France.  Running of the bulls and Alpe d'Huez, two events that I can fully see papa Kaas partaking in without question.  I'll have some good stories coming soon.

So here it is, as it stands now, The List (or, the 7 remaining):

-Visit Denali State Park
- Visit the pyramids in Egypt
- Run with the bulls in Pamplona
- Visit Australia, and New Zealand
- Hike the Pacific Crest Trail 
- Visit the great wall
- Go to France and ride the Alp D’Heuz
- Race in Ironman Hawaii in Kona
- Live on a beach.

Couldn't have done it without these ladies. Photo by Devin Hume.

 


Also,
I've been slacking on the blissful moment posts, so heres a quick synapsis of some amazing times that have been had:
    Watching the moon rise with Devin and Abbey on a whimsical night hike
    Singing "I'll Fly Away" in a small church beach with my roommates
    Yesterday jumping off a boat deck in the early dawn hours
    And, surely, the feeling of movement that will come from stepping on a ferry boat tonight.