Day 11: They’re onto us.

Last weekend the parking lot at the beach was packed on Saturday, although the beach itself had plenty of room. The packed lot made me feel uncomfortable, so I decide to try going on a cloudy Friday morning, just the kid and me. I throw a portable potty in the car (anticipating bathrooms being closed), a sand bucket, and a very excited preschooler. Traffic is clear on highway 101, and we are in good spirits. As we approach the access road in Pacifica, we’re greeted by a flashing road sign:

“BEACH PARKING IS CLOSED. STAY HOME!”

But I press on, passing the vast empty lots roped off with signs, hoping for some minimal street parking somewhere. We end up at the Taco Bell, one of the few parking lots open. We need lunch anyway, so we pop in and order it (“Stay close, don’t touch anything – get back here! Hold mama’s hand…”) and eat it in the car. There’s a sign through my windshield on the light post about towing cars if they’re not customers. After lunch we grab a bucket and shovel and head for the beach. I leave the Taco Bell bag visible in the backseat, as proof I belong here.

When I was a kid, our apartment complex didn’t have a pool, but the one next to us did, and we would try to get in sometimes. Seeing these signs and the roped off lots, I get that feeling in my stomach of a vague sense of doing something wrong, sneaking into a pool that isn’t mine. Alongside it, a feeling of injustice, that someone has a pool and we don’t, the unfairness of being shut out.

But I’m not that kid anymore. The beach doesn’t belong to anyone, and we have as much a right to go here as anyone else. I keep telling myself that, but the feeling persists, and I check the parking lot at Taco Bell every half hour to make sure my car’s still there.

The kid doesn’t mind my paranoia. He has a great time building sand turtles, talking nonstop about crabs, kicking the waves. A handful of beachcombers, dog walkers, and exercisers pass by. The sun comes out and it’s a perfect day. I relax.

On the way home while he naps in the back, I turn the radio down and start scheming on how to manage our future Essential Activities around closed parking lots.

What am I grateful for today?

A beautiful day at the beach and a happy kid.

What do I wish I’d done before the Quarantine?

I wish we knew our community better, so we could find more secluded natural spots.