a singular sock

A little while ago, I biked down to the beach, slipped into the lapping waves and simply floated. Floating, the sun crept behind the point as the sky grew darker and the water more blue. 

In this expansive blue, I simply existed: weightless and free, grounded but untethered, not forsaken, but alone. The lonely islands struck a regal pose and the mountains basked in the pink of the sun's reflection. And reflecting, I drifted. Drifting for a blissful few, unbound and unburdened, a little soul in a big sea–God's greatness literally washing over me. 

Me, myself, an embodied being, full of dreams and love and life. I wriggled life back into my toes as they started to get chilly. Chilled, I was rushed back to reality. But really, I paused first and cuddled beneath a denim flannel and I read a lil and felt the night creep in. And in the fading light, I packed up and headed to my bike. Bike in hand I started to put on my shoes, but soon discovered that I lost a sock. Down a singular sock, I biked to the Trader Joe's shuttle stop, avoiding an arduous bike ride best saved for another day. Day in, day out. 

Out of God's mighty creativity, in the mundane of the everyday, great beauty abounds.