Hug Cove, OR
I walked down the beach, watching the surfers play in the early morning sunshine.
I ate some ice cream in town. An elderly engineer from Idaho asked what I was doing. I told him. He asked how I would pay for my future. I shrugged and looked off into the distance and told him that I hoped I’d figure it out.
I walked back to the beach; it was wide, white, and stretched for miles. I had a conversation with a couple from Portland. The guy pointed towards a large rock, 200 feet high, just offshore. ”That’s the most photographed rock in Oregon.” I took off my shoes and followed his finger south.
A pretty girl was by herself, playing in the sand. I asked her what she was doing; she told me she was drawing a rose; she had a piercing just above her lip and wasn’t wearing a bra. I told her that I thought that was cool. When she was done, I asked to take her photo. She knelt by the rose and made the shape of a heart with her hands. She was 19 and told me that she dreamed of a life of travel and making people smile. I told her that I thought that was cool too, and I gave her my card.
I pulled out my frisbee and threw it as hard as I could into the wind. When it came back, I jumped up and tried to catch it behind my back. I played alone for half an hour. Elderly couples walked hand in hand down the beach.
I packed up my stuff and walked further. This guy cycled by. To his left was the most photographed rock in Oregon. He continued down the beach; he didn’t even look.