“One more time; one more summer-” the resounding record in my head kept continuously playing. I landed myself here in this small little beach town year after year–summer after summer–living in my family’s quaint little beach house. I pursue the usual-- copious amounts of coffee on the front porch, breakfast dates at the satellite, numerous bike rides to the pier, runs on the boards and nightly shenanigans with whoever has off work the next day, blah blah blah and another summer unfolds.
But not this year.
I’ve considered this town home every summer of my life. I mean, I’m not from here but I can't help but identify with the rest of the slim population here. It’s like a carousel I couldn't seem to jump off of; the ride I enjoyed far too much to ditch every year. Round and round. “One more time; one more summer” — but not this year.
Real life is setting in, graduation is in sight and I think it's about time to get away for a bit. Time to see what it's all about out there. After numerous cold calls and emails for days I finally figured it out. I nailed a dream internship and I booked my ticket to the West Coast for the summer.
It's been more than real oc. Thanks for all the times–-but this year, I'm jumping.
With love from California,