There is a word that keeps surfacing when I think about the water this time of year -- anh. In Vietnamese it means older brother, the one who moves through space first, who takes the cold so you do not have to. The ocean is like that.

I went in before the beach cleared. Pacific in June is not warm -- it comes at you sideways, hits the chest, resets everything. You cannot think in cold water. That is the whole point.

Came out with sand on my feet and a quiet I had not felt all week. Stood there dripping while the sun figured out what it was doing. Some mornings do not need explaining.