Coronado Island

Archives from Spring 2017

IMG_6697Last spring, a golden shore along the coast of Coronado Island served as our alarm clock every morning. The gentle crashing of ocean waves and a faint breathe of hazelnut coffee stirred us gradually from our deep sleeps. Our feet pushed aside the seashell quilt that always hung lazily over the bed’s wooden frame. Our feet pressed into the bedroom’s carpet with deliberant ease like placing fresh plums into a fruit bowl, mindful of their fragile skin. Salted air brushed through the windows while we slept. These oceanic grains settled into the carpet and put curls into our hair. Our feet clung to the memory of plush sheets while they adjusted to the salty carpet and floors. Our feet led us to a narrow kitchen where we made pumpkin, chocolate-chip pancakes in the mornings and danced to the music of Il Volo at night. We turned laughter into a dance. Our bare feet suction-cupping to the tile floor as we spun. Our skirts flowed and lagged behind us until the light fabric caught up to our movement and wrapped around our waists. We kept squares of dark chocolate on the nightstand. And hours past sunset, our conversations slowly faded until we could not remember what the other person said.

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