Back in January I posted this, one of my favorites in a series of "photoetry" posts of the kids running around at Moonlight Beach, the place I spent the bulk of my adolescence, and to this day feels most like home. We take the kids there often and I've posted multiple posts through the years of our adventures, Archer drawing circles in the sand, chasing the ocean until the depth got intimidating. (Doesn't it always.)
A few weeks ago, we met some friends at the beach with boogie boards and their old sleds and the kids went down the sand for hours. Up they climbed and down they went, barefoot and giggling, surrounded by seagulls.
Growing up in San Diego I always resented the fact that I never had a white Christmas, a festive thanksgiving. I've been in the snow, sure, but never at home and always thought by the time I was an adult, I'd have decided on a more festive (snowy) locale so that my children could have what I didn't. I envied the snowy Christmases I saw in movies, read about in books, imagined for myself. I wanted that for my kids, should I ever have them, a childhood that looked nothing like mine... lighting the menorah against a frosted window, fireplace crackling, I always wished to wake up on Christmas morning surrounded by snow. Cue Bing Crosby and every other holiday standard.
...So cozy and romantic, like a postcard. Except these last few days, after our six-day apocalyptic downpour, I'm newly appreciative that the weather outside is seldom frightful. That our winter memories of hurdling down beachside slopes, sandy-haired in tee-shirts are idyllic in their own right. Because Southern California, with its Santas in swim trunks, convertibles done up in lights, tree lots with Ferris wheels and festive holiday garden parties, are their own fabulous version of Winter Wonderland.
And just like I have a newfound appreciation for the awesome that is Los Angeles, so do I have the same adoration for my hometown, for being able to spend holidays sledding with my kids down sand piles overlooking the sea, sand angels and rock cars and memories that resemble my own.
"When it stops raining, let's go back to the beach and go sledding."
"If it ever stops raining."
"Of course it will. It always does."
Happy Familytime, all. Rain, snow, sun, all of the above. Lots of love.