Kimberlee K.

As a homebody, I’m all for having no plans. For bopping around from room to room in my safest place with all my favorite things. For staying home, where it’s cozy, predictable and, well, inexpensive.

But sometimes on a weekend I get that itch to go out. To see something new. To go on an adventure. Especially when it’s that perfect blend of Sothern California sunny but not 115 degree summer. That sweet spot of early spring when you can wear a sweatshirt and shorts, and a cold breeze invites you to put your hair up in a messy bun that you can completely forget about.

On this particular Saturday, I woke up, wide awake, much earlier than usual. And I lay there knowing I had a choice. I’d had an emotional rollercoaster of a week, where hormones ran the show, and I could either put on my robe and rot on the couch, recovering, recharging, relaxing (completely acceptable), or I could get in the car and drive around, letting discovery lead the way to renewal (also completely acceptable.)

This time, I chose to go. To get up and get out and see what I could find.

And so I went.

I stopped in on the Malibu Hindu Temple, a spot on the map I’d seen a few times and was curious to find in person. I marveled at the architecture and the sacredness of the space, laughing lightly at the contrast across the street, where a group of Hot Shot firefighters were suited up and doing drills under the loud order of their Captain.

Then I made my way to El Matador State Beach, amazed at how few people were in the parking lot, how empty the pebbly sand was. I set up on top of the hill overlooking the water and read a few chapters of my library book. Then I walked around barefoot, going from dry sand to wet sand, to rocks and back, sometimes standing still with my eyes closed, just breathing. Then I set up against one of the famous rock formations—the windows for the sunset that draw huge crowds in the evenings—and I read some more, occasionally touching my forehead, my collarbones, thinking, it’s almost….hot?

With no specific next destination in mind, I typed “matcha” into my maps, only sure that I didn’t want to go home yet. I clicked on a café on the other side of the canyon, watched a windy road turn blue on my map and was off.

I turned the music up, at first feeling light, free, and then needing something to focus on while the road turned and turned and turned. I said a thankful prayer that I was driving and then promised never to take this road again, all while bopping my head to the pop playlist I made called “My Queens.”

I smiled at bicyclists and motorcyclists and tourists taking pictures on turn offs. I watched the nine miles tick by sloooowly, nervous about how long it would take someone to get to me if my car broke down, and wondering how tenants took this road all the time for trivial things like butter, toilet paper, and eggs.

Then I pulled into the parking lot at the Westlake Promenade, unaware that the La La Land Café sat amongst so many other stores and restaurants. I ordered the Honey and Cinnamon Matcha Latte and the M.A.K.A. toast, which reawakened my affection for almond butter. I picked a table in the shade and read the last two chapters of my book while passersby chased after children and puppies, and spoke to one another in an unhurried, kind way that sometimes only a beautiful Saturday afternoon can bring out. I popped in and out of shops, collecting treasures—a new blush from Sephora, new candles from World Market—and walked around Barnes and Noble, taking pictures of books I would look up later.

Then I drove home, returning my library book on the way.

I made dinner, took a long shower, turned on a movie, and then went to sleep.

It was a day that would have been good regardless, but was magnified by the week that preceded it. It was a technicolor reward that glowed a little brighter because of where and when I found it. And now I think of that feeling every time I look at the little square rock I kept from the beach, or light the candle I got at the Promenade. The little treasures that look basic but represent a really good day.