Love at the Rim of the Continent

I keep coming back here.
Again and again and again.
The majestic yet violent roar of the Pacific beckons me as do the pelicans that soar up above me, vast stretches of ocean before me, and the city’s urban sprawl behind me; and despite the mighty winds, I come. And I keep coming. As I always have. And most likely, always will.

“Thousands of years, people have been drawn to this rocky shoreline for nourishment, recreation, and emotional renewal. Their richly textured stories reveal much about this complex landscape, altered over time by nature and human activity.” from the Cliff House at Lands End

Lands End – near the Cliff House throughout its many incarnations since 1885 in Point Lobos – could be one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. I could be alone or with someone here forever, and then some. It’s late afternoon on a crisp November day, and this most beautiful of spots that nourishes every fiber of my being points me to love.

And why should it not, I ask myself?

I wonder if it’s because it’s the first place Taylor and I came to after a miserable couple months when we first moved here, confined to a hotel room, looking for a place to live. It’s the place we stumbled upon one Friday evening, looking upon its violent yet serene beauty, realizing that we had found home. We had found love. Even then, that first time, this place though new, felt very familiar. This familiar feeling of being on the edge, in this case standing at the rim of the continent. This not so familiar feeling of loving and being loved. We had just said goodbye to most everyone and everything we knew, knowing even then that we were here for a reason.

And so I kept walking until I found love’s symbol. Staring at me as I face the sun, the ocean disappearing into its horizon. Staring at me like it’s been there this whole time.

And it has.

All you have to do is look.

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