I’m one grey hair over and one Drake song shy of becoming an influencer as I am now making smoothies with 12 ingredients and my salads are like a double rainbow conglomeration of ever vendor at the Farmers Market. I actually bought fresh dill to use with my locally-sourced ‘spensive AF (worth it) smoked wild salmon and it was a game-changer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a little bit low-key bougie in my adult life, enjoying splurges on little luxuries like candles, face serum and now smoked salmon, but in quarantine it’s become especially important to realize the things that make you feel most alive and invest in them.

On the uncharacteristically hot weekend that just passed, I resisted going out to Ocean Beach because having grown up on a beach, I know all too well that this is where all the people flock to when it’s anything above 72 degrees. At almost 100 degrees in the city, I had to join in — if for no other reason than to feel a subtle breeze run through my hair and under the mask, pick up an iced coffee with a splash of oat milk (how’s that for building my influencer image?), and dip my toes into the water edge. I sat in that sweet spot where the dry meets wet sand and as my paper straw disintegrated, noticed a moving tent caused by an enthused Lhasa Apso (yeah, I didn’t know it was spelled that way either…), four men in speedos who would have been decent frisbee players had they freed their Whiteclaw hands and a kid to my right who tip-toed across the sand yelling “I’m scared!” in attempts to conquer the scorching mini-dunes that lie under-foot.

Strange times. But also, good to see humanity out doing their thing. I never felt super connected to the beach when I lived a few blocks away from it and just 400 miles south of where I now sat. When I’m here now, it feels comforting, familiar, soothing. I love the way my hair gets stringy in the salty-air, I love finding sand between my toes. I love how my skin feels like it’s taking a deep breath. I love how my freckles reveal their boundaries, my shoulders boast a pinky hue and my lips taste like a pretzel.

A snowy plover might be my newest spirit animal, running in and out of the tide, treating every new wave as if it’s a new experience yet equally scared and thrilled by it. This is how I feel most days, equally scared by the state of things and invigorated to contribute to change — to be a part of a world trying to do better. Living in the duality is the name of the game it seems these days. As someone who has had to do a lot of work to live in the grey area, this duality is something I have practiced for but it doesn’t mean it comes easy. I want clarity, answers, insight, foresight into what’s next just as much as the next person. In the meantime, we settle in, we do with what’s in front of us because at the end of the day it’s still precious time that we’ve been given. It’s still a gift, it’s still our lives, and you can choose to embrace it or be angry and sad that it’s not the way it ‘was supposed to be’. What was ‘supposed to be’ anyway? Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be or maybe it just is. And that needs to be enough.

It’s tough, it’s different, it’s hard some days to feel like life is moving forward, that we’re making progress toward the things in life that we want and were building towards. Dating is different, connecting with loved ones takes more time and stepping over technological hurdles. Weddings are cancelled, babies are being born without families in the same room. It doesn’t mean we can’t still celebrate in our own, smaller ways and definitely in our hearts.

This week marks three years since we lost my sister. It’s slowly seeping in as the day creeps closer and I have to sit with that. Unlike in years past, 2020 has made a lot of room for sitting with things. I’m a bit fearful to face head on the things that come up around the preciousness of time and how delicate human life is. It’s something I’m not sure I’ve actually really processed fully, just in pieces over the past three years. I feel her absence and my own vulnerability when Adele’s “Hello” comes on the radio — a song that reminds me of when her and my niece and nephew belted out these lyrics on one of our last Thanksgivings with her there. It was a bit out of character for her to play along like this (or so I thought) and watching her just let her guard down to be mom was beautifully moving and deeply impressionable on me. She allowed herself to live.

With low-key bougie hand-soap and fresh dill, I’ll find little joys to make this crazy current state of things feel like living my best life too. Because we all need reminders that life is meant to be lived, that time never stands still, that we can choose to flow with time or fight against it. Like those waves that touch my toes, moving forward and retreating but still moving forward, I too will allow myself the duality of progress and retreat. The important thing is to remember that we get to be here, we get to do the work, we get to find joy — even and especially when things look a little different these days.