—Martin Luther King Jr.
AFTER MILES OF twisting turns, sheer cliff on one side and lush green hillside with ravines and tiny waterfalls on the other, the highway finally winds inland just a bit, and we pass a small sign that reads STATE CAMPGROUND. Colton doesn’t turn into the campground but makes a left into a parking lot on the coastal side of the highway. There’s no one in the kiosk to take our money, and since the parking lot is deserted, we have our pick of spots. Colton pulls the bus up next to the fence, under a cypress tree that spreads its rich green branches out wide and flat, like an enormous bonsai tree.
It’s quiet when he looks over. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.” He leans across the seat and gives me a kiss, and I can feel a smile on his lips. “This is my favorite place. Ever. Come on.”
We both get out and stand near our open doors, stretching in the afternoon sun. The air is different here: cooler, and more layered. The smell of the salt water mixes with scents of the trees and flowers that grow wild and tumble over the hill. We can’t see or hear the ocean from where we stand, but I can feel it, just like I can feel the last bit of tension slip off Colton as he breathes it in too.
“Let’s go see the water,” he says, and before I can answer, he grabs my hand and leads me to a short wooden staircase that goes up and over the fence, to the other side, where a trail winds through the tall green grass, then disappears at the edge of the bluff. We climb up and over, then walk, hand in hand, down the trail. We don’t say anything, but we don’t have to. The sweetness of the air, and the feel of each other’s hand, the distant sound of the ocean—all of it is perfect. All of it feels like what we need, and where we should be.
When we get to where the trail leads to a steep set of stairs, the view of the ocean unfolds in front of us. It stops me in my tracks.
“Wow,” I breathe. “This is beautiful.”
“I knew you’d love it,” Colton says with a grin as he runs his eyes over the wide cove of sapphire water below. At the southern end of it, a graceful white arc of water dives over the cliff and spills out onto the sand before meeting the ocean. Colton inhales deep and slow, like he’s drinking it all in, comparing every little detail to the picture in his memory.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” I ask.
He doesn’t take his eyes from the water. “A long time. It was with my dad, maybe ten years ago? We came camping, just us, right on the beach.” He smiles. “Brought the kayak and our surfboards and stayed in the water all day, then came in and cooked hot dogs and s’mores over the campfire, and watched the shooting stars over the ocean at night.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“It was. A perfect day. I remember it that way anyway. Thought about it a lot when I was sick.” He glances at me. “I thought maybe that would go down as my best day.”
We both watch as a wave, much bigger than what I’ve seen in Shelter Cove, rises, gathering speed and height, then crashes in a fast line with a thunder I can hear, even this far away.
Colton lets out a low whistle. “You feeling brave?”
“Not that brave,” I say as the next wave does a repeat, shooting white water high up into the air when it crashes. “It’s wilder up here.”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s not really kayak friendly out there.” We watch as another wave peels across the cove in a perfect, empty line. “Good surf, though.”
I watch it, amused by the fact that every time I’ve heard him say that, my thought is that it looks downright scary. I still like catching the white water next to the pier.
“You can surf if you want, I don’t mind. I’ll watch.” The platform we’re standing on has a bench and a view, and I know it would do him some good to get in the water.
“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
“No, go. I’m not quite ready for those waves yet, but I’ve seen what you can do. “
He turns to me and smiles, then pulls me in for a sweet, quick kiss that surprises us both. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”
“Take as much time as you want.”
“Okay. I’m gonna go change and get my board.”
He starts up the trail, then stops and comes back for one more kiss. This one is deeper and sends little waves of warmth all through me.
He pulls back a little, rests his forehead on mine, so we’re eye to eye. Smiles. “Okay. I really am gonna go change.”
“Okay,” I echo. “I’ll be here.”
He takes a few steps backward, keeping his eyes on me until he has to turn around. I watch as he jogs up the trail to his bus, wanting him to come back and kiss me again, knowing that if he does, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.
By the time he does come back with his surfboard, I’ve found my way down to another little wooden platform, midway between flights of stairs, complete with a bench, a railing, and a perfect view of the waterfall in the cove below.
“I brought you a sweatshirt,” Colton says, handing it to me. “Just in case.” He leans in for another quick kiss, then bounds down the stairs in his rash guard and trunks, board under one arm, and it makes me happy inside to see him this way. The lightness is back in his step.
I stand at the railing for a moment and watch as he throws his board into the deep blue of the water, jumps onto it, and starts paddling with the grace and ease of someone who never spent a single day away from it. You’d never know it’d been any other way for him. You’d never know any of it from the outside.