January 16, 2026: My evening walk in gratitude…

Venice Beach Evening Gratitude…

Tonight, at Venice Beach felt like a love letter written in pastel ink. The sky softened into peaches, blush, and quiet blues, and the clouds reflected back from the wet sand as if the ocean wanted to remember every color before letting go. Waves came in steady and sure, crashing gently, reminding me that even endings can arrive with grace.

Out in the distance, a fishing boat moved along the horizon, and above it the birds gathered—circling, swooping, chasing with pure joy. Even from here, I could see how happy they were. That kind of happiness travels. It doesn’t need to be close to be felt.

Surfers waited patiently in the water, balanced between effort and trust, reading the rhythm of the sea. I always love watching that moment—the pause before motion, the belief that the right wave will come.

As I walked away, silhouettes of people lingered along the shore, holding onto the last threads of light. Strangers became part of the same picture, stitched together by sunset. No rush. No noise. Just presence.

These moments never feel ordinary to me. They feel sacred. A reminder that beauty doesn’t ask to be earned, only noticed.

I am deeply grateful for evenings like this. For distant joy that’s still visible. For reflections that mirror what’s inside. For light that stays just a little longer. And for the quiet knowing that the universe is always rearranging things in our favor.

Capturing beauty, sharing light.
—April

Evening Gratitude Thought:
Grateful for birds chasing joy in the distance, waves meeting the shore, and light that lingers long enough to be felt.