We’re missing home…
Technically, Fort Bragg California isn’t home- except that it has changed less over the years then my own childhood home has. I’ve been going there for as long as I can remember; stretched out on rickety hotel beds with my sister watching Back to the Future while my parents figured out where we’d go for dinner. Then years later, on my honeymoon. My husband and I go back every year now, usually multiple times; it gets in your bones, in your blood. Makes you ache for quiet streets and grey mornings, the sun shining off the sea, the cry of gulls over the harbor.
As I’m writing this, I realize the images I chose don’t show what I want to tell. I want to talk about Los Gallitos, back behind the laundry mat. With their bottled Cokes and kick ass food and brothers teasing their older sisters in the kitchen. Or Eggheads, with their little neon light and whiteboard with messages from costumers that are global and local, and coffee that will make you weep softly when you say goodbye. There’s a train that winds through town, the famous Skunk Line that carries you up into the redwood hills that run along the coast.
It will be time to go soon, the flowers never stop blooming there, and the weathers always fine; even on days where it’s wet and grey I can find nothing to complain about.
We’ll make a post soon that looks at the streets and homes, and we’ll talk about the town of Mendocino down the coast, and lighthouses and parks. Hope everyone has a lovely day, or at least a calm one.