The Bohemian and I step away from domestic home routine. Pack some snacks and a beer and head to the beach to watch the sunset. Look at seaside vacation rentals and dream of wedding locations.
We look for that one house he went to – the one where they had a DJ on the deck and a dancing bride and groom. We find the big, dirt square in the lawn where the house once sat, and realize that now, it’s simply gone. Vanished.
We set out our blanket, eat our tortilla chips. Watch the family nearby practice martial arts moves on each other. Head butts that stop just short. Fake karate chops to throats. They go on like this for an hour.
We wander up the one lane road that winds along the ocean. Watch the sky turning pink. Round a corner and see one table set out on a seaside point. Eight chairs, tiki torches and photographers. Looks like a simple wedding. A small group sitting among lava rock and lapping waves. The caterer’s parked nearby with a barbecue grill on the back of her pick up truck.
Our feet trace the road. Ocean on one side, lush cliff side on the other. We find a big rock by the water and sit.
Then we hear the rumble. Look up to see the movement in the grass along the mountain. The earth shakes.
We go towards the sound and find a good size boulder has landed squarely in the road.
The sky is not falling, it’s the mountain that is crumbling to the sea. And we’d been walking in the fall-out zone only moments before.
Demolished houses, martial arts and rolling boulders. A wedding banquet off the back of a truck.