Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,36

“I always knew you were a fighter.” She winked. “Even if you prefer to make your own clothes and never wear camouflage.”

10

Ben

Textbook San Diego weather beckoned us closer to the coast as we exited the 5 and merged onto La Jolla Parkway. Beautiful, crystal-clear blue skies, temperature hovering around the mid-seventies range, and an undercurrent of something indescribable humming through the air. A tinge of excitement maybe. A promise of adventure.

The sun hung heavy in the sky, bright and full. If there had been fog clinging to the ground, stubbornly refusing to dissipate and allow the glorious light to shine, a sun like the one above us would have the power to burn the cleaving mist away.

I glanced over at Molly in the passenger seat. She leaned on her hip, rotated so she smiled back at Chloe in her car seat behind me. They played their dozenth round of Rock, Paper, Scissors. My lips bowed of their own accord as Molly dramatically groaned at having her rock covered by Chloe’s paper.

The problem with living in a fog for a long time is that the haze becomes normal. You don’t even recognize the murkiness for what it is anymore because you begin to forget what the world looked like without the distorted shroud of gray. Only being able to see ten feet in front of your face is enough, because if you strained your eyes to be able to see further, you’d end up tripping on something lying directly in your path.

But then shafts of light shoot through and you wonder to yourself, what is that? The thick fog thins and all that was shadowy and gray comes into focus and color.

And you remember.

You remember what the world was like. What you were like before the pall. And you can look beyond what lies just in front of your feet. Begin to hope that the sun will shine again tomorrow. And the next day.

And the next.

“Are we there yet?” Chloe whined.

“Yep. Go ahead and get out.” I switched lanes and checked my speed.

Molly grinned at my sarcasm, but Chloe huffed. “That’s what you always say, Daddy.”

“We’ll get there when we get there, sweetheart.”

“You always say that, too.”

Five minutes later, we pulled into a parking space. Chloe raced around the car as soon as I unbuckled her, and I reminded her that she was in a parking lot and needed to hold a grown-up’s hand. Like an obedient little girl, she tucked her fingers into my palm but then put the pedal to the metal and pulled me across the blacktop.

If the day’s warmth had beckoned, then the sea welcomed. A breeze blew up the cliffs, bringing with it scents of salty ocean, fish, and the more pungent odors of seal and sea lion waste. While the animals were fun to watch—seals like marine sausages squished into casings lying on the sandy beach and their sea lion relatives resting on the rocks—they did not exactly have a pleasant smell.

Tall palms offered their finger-like fronds as dancing partners to the wind and waltzed above our heads as we trekked toward the water. Chloe continued to pull until we were along the sea wall, looking down at the Children’s Pool, named such because the beach had first been built as a swimming area for kids. Seals had since taken over the beach to use as a rookery for breeding. The beach had been closed since December for birthing season and now the little families sunned themselves in the temperate Southern California weather.

“Do you know the difference between a seal and a sea lion?” Molly, ever the teacher, asked Chloe.

Chloe’s face scrunched as she thought hard, then her eyes brightened. “Sea lions must be the boys, because they are so much noisier than the seals.”

Molly grinned at her. “That’s an excellent observation. You’re right, sea lions are a bit attention seeking with all that racket, aren’t they?”

Chloe nodded with all seriousness. “Just like boys.”

“Hey!” I objected, then tweaked her nose.

“There are a few easy ways you can tell seals and sea lions apart.” Molly pointed to the animals. “Besides being quite loud, sea lions have ear flaps, are brown in color, and they use their flippers to sort of walk around. Seals have a spotted coat and kind of just wiggle on their bellies to move on land.” She pressed her arms to her sides and waddled about.

Chloe giggled and joined in on the wiggling. “Come on, Daddy, be a seal with us.”

“I thought I