Rosie's Beach

We are prepping our lives to taxi towards the Thanksgiving holiday up the north coast of California where the environment brings peace to my heart.  Decades ago, I travelled north with my former partner in search of a Mendocino county getaway that became a place of refuge.  Then, I loved the idea of finding a way to force my partner to be closer.  As a much younger me, I kept thinking she would change and come to appreciate the human whose every thought was somehow attached to getting her to love me.  Silly girl I now think, that never works.  Ah, if only I had the wisdom that can only come with age!

When the divorce was final on 10/26/03, I did not think of all the places we had been over 16 years together as providing a way for all those ghosts to flap their ephemeral wings in my face.  However, Mar Vista was never one of those otherworldly reminders of love lost.  I knew that Mar Vista was my place and holds my memories.  Mar Vista is tied to me. 

The cottages at Mar Vista were built 75 years ago and they offer privacy, sweet furnishings with a living room/kitchen that holds the coastal light during the day that lends itself to reading, dreaming, tea drinking, napping and just plain being.  You can hear the seals barking through the airwaves.  A short walk gets you to a horseshoe shaped beach that I now call Rosie's beach.  Time at Mar Vista allows the pain of life to be put on hold though it is still there.  It is just that the sting of life is not part of a vacation at Mar Vista.  There is a stoic beauty here that belies a light shining on any of my troubles. 

When my best dog friend Rosie died very quickly and very unexpectedly, I knew that I would scatter her ashes on the shore of that beach at Mar Vista.  When I only had one dog, we brought our dogs here for a brief stay.  The tide was in at the rock we scoot around to walk an extension of Rosie's beach thus cutting off the horseshoe beach for a straightaway where we could let the dogs run.  I unclasped Rosie's collar and she took off full Greyhound tilt hauling dog butt through the water up the short beach left by the tide.  She did this several times and returned to me breathless and glassy eyed as if the freedom and the salt air made her feel high.  It was wonderful to watch and I shall never forget it.

It has been many years since Rosie died and I made my way up the coast on a perfect sunny and warm January day to scatter a dozen red roses and her ashes.  That day too is in my memories as it could not have been more perfect.  Low tide, sunny and warm with no one on the beach.  I walked the shoreline tossing red roses in the surf and then her ashes, weeping at the loss of a dog who had slept by my bedside at night, watched me crawl through an aching divorce, the loss of our home and many other losses.  She was the dog I have never found since and maybe because she was one of a kind.  I have her photo beside my bed and in my car.  She sits beside the being that I imagine is a "God" when I meditate.  Rosie is all that and much more.

We commence our planning and gathering of acorn squash recipes, whipped cream, meal planning adventures, stacking clothing and synchronizing our efforts to get our three Greyhounds to the kennel and pack the car.  We will be driving up the coast Wednesday evening after work toward the place that holds sweet and bittersweet memories of stillness, love, freedom, beauty and peace.  Rosie's beach is the best place I can think of to feel grateful for all that has come to pass on this Thanksgiving 2011.