beautiful beautiful beautiful day.

After work (where Dr. gave my eyes a clean bill of health), I rushed home, changed clothes, and rushed down the hill to pick up my friend B. For those of you who haven't heard, the waves yesterday were over 40 ft. Something I had to see, even if it was at night. B and I drove to the North Shore as it got dark. She'd brought a pizza and a bottle of wine and we drove in my new car with the sunroof open. We talked about life and God and humanity and family and we laughed. A lot. We got to the beach and sat and ate and drank.

The waves were so big, the spray was thick and at least 4-5 ft high. It looked like the water was reaching claw after claw into the beach, raking away the sand, trying to get at something. Or someone. So much force behind each wave, and each receding wave either clashed against or was enveloped by the next. And the sound! Oh, the sound. It was low and rumbling like thunder. You could even feel it in your stomach sometimes as the waves fought with each other. All this arcing, roiling madness was taking place under the clearest sky I've seen in ages. Not a single cloud for a good 3 hours. The stars were ridiculous. The ocean was ridiculous. The air was cold. And B and I just camped out on the sand for a while, soaking in the salt air.

We've both suffered recent losses, hers more recent than mine. Last week, she lost a baby she'd been carrying for nearly 2 months. I know the cavernous ache that losing Grandpa created inside of me--I can only imagine how it feels to lose something that was, actually, inside of you. She is strong in a way that recognizes how she feels. I admire that she's not really OK. Because, honestly, sometimes in life you're just not okay. I admire her for many reasons. This is just the one I saw today.