Return to Malibu
Malibu Lagoon wasn't how I remembered it. I didn't quite remember the lagoon itself or the beach houses, now abandoned or under reconstruction. I didn't remember the trails or the abstract art. It vaguely felt like home, but it was comfortably familiar.
The trail led around the lagoon where birdwatchers and other photographers quietly lined the marshes. Tourists, onlookers, and beach-goers milled about, concerned with their own business. It was a nice, quiet day at the beach which was normal during weekday morning hours. I momentarily regretted not bringing my paddle board; there were but a few surfers in the water riding some very small waves.
After snapping more than enough photos, I parked myself on some random log by the trail head. I overhead a man telling a couple the history of Malibu, and what probably were a family of tourists getting ready to catch some waves. It suddenly hit me that over 20 something years ago, this beach was home to me. How many times had I frequented Malibu with my friends and my sister? This was where the cool kids hung out. Actually any SoCal beach was where cool kids hung out. That was just what we did as kids growing up in L.A.
Of course, the only things that matter now are those memories. Not being cool- which, now that I think of it, I wasn't "cool"- I was somewhere in the middle. Anyhow, I'm a cool kid now. At least in my mind I am. I don't need other people to help me validate that. I have these amazing memories that validate the person I've become today.