I've been missing home. I'm from San Diego and even though my family doesn't live right by the ocean, the beach has always held a special place in my heart. Growing up my family would take an annual beach camping trip where my parents let my brothers and I live free with our friends. We would wake up at dawn and layer up to gather seashells in the mist before the beach was covered with people. We would spend all day beaching, swimming...boogie boarding and my mom, the artist that she is, would amaze onlookers with huge sand sculptures of lions, alligators, monkeys and just about anything and everything. At night we would ride scooters and bikes around the campsites until dark when dinner and stories were served and shared around the campfire, the air sticky, the waves below us and everyone huddled close.

Now, the beach is a place of escape and a place of bliss. I just love the sound of the water, the way the sun warms my skin, salt crisped hair and the water's constant motion. In San Francisco, my weekend morning runs to Ocean Beach always bring me back to those happy times and allow me to take a step away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

This weekend, I changed my route and instead ran to the Sutro Bath overlook. From above, you can see the waves' patterns constantly pushing and pulling, fighting and making up, squeezing tight and letting loose, much like lives up and downs. The pattern resonated with me and I've been thinking about "waves" ever since.

Anyways, waves.