On a weekend in January, when the waves should have been too cold to trample into and the sun should have been hidden in a misty haze, four girlfriends and I held ourselves up in a little beach town and didn’t leave until we absolutely had to. We found home in a colorful collection of flawed rentals on the beach, a little pastel neighborhood that Capitola locals know as the Jewel Box.
We went to get out of town for all those sorts of reasons people always talk about wanting to get away. This and that. Beginnings and endings. All of those things. You know. We went with few expectations, except to sleep on the beach, eat at least one ice cream cone, covet all of the jewelry in those little shops and to take time to make art and make cocktails with creams and Kahlua. We unlocked our harbor-facing purple door when it was already dark. We’d left the valley immediately after work on a Friday, and were determined to make it a full night. With arms loaded with duffel bags and art supplies, we scoped out our little apartment and claimed our beds before running back outside to see the water. “We’re going to come here every year,” someone said before we even began.We wandered the town that night. Had a nice dinner with a round of drinks that came topped with yellow umbrellas (which we awkwardly cradled in our hands after finally being asked to move to make room for the incoming band). We looked out to the moon reflecting in the sea. We found a liquor store for necessities. Then we headed home to the jewel box. Mornings on the beach could quite easily be one of my favorite things. Mornings, in general, and if they don’t involve slipping into work clothes, are heavenly. But in the Jewel Box, mornings are fluorescent and golden sunlight bounces off pastel pinks and greens and turquoise. Everything seems more alive. More textured. More excited. We didn’t do a lot in Capitola, but then we did everything. In our pajamas, we walked to the local coffee shop just across the river from the Jewel Box. I defended by breakfast burrito from a brave seagull, too.(See where I’m pointing? That’s our little home in the Jewel Box): I keep finding that when it comes to photographs, much like life, it sometimes takes me a while to sit down and process them. It’s taken a while to share these, but they bring back happy memories from earlier this year. It also makes that wanderlust spirit set itself on fire. I’ll be back very, very soon with more from the Jewel Box. Promise.