The Lapidarist

The Angel of Big Sur

Robert John, lapidarist.

The weather has been dreary on the Monterey Peninsula since we’ve arrived. Other than a few splashes of pale blue, the sky is layered with flat, uninspired grey clouds. It’s unseasonably cool, and there is a raw feel to the air. Because of that, we’ve avoided the beaches, choosing a network of nearby trails among twisted Monterey Pine Trees instead.

This morning, though, despite the weather, we drove to Carmel Beach. I cannot tell you what possessed me to change things up.

We’d just begun our walk and cleared the cypress tree that guards the beach when off in the distance, we saw the Lapidarist and his Alaskan Malamute, Sky.

He saw us right away, threw up his arm in greeting, and hooted. Within seconds, we were hugging.

You ever have a friend who you rarely see, never talk with on the phone, or text, and yet when you reunite, even after a year’s recess, you fall back into each other with such ease, it’s as if you picked up a conversation you had yesterday?

That’s…