the witch of Bergen
Whenever my world silences for even a moment
and the only sound I can hear is the beating of my own heart,
I reflect back on all that has happened to me
overwhelmed by a sense of wonder.
The hows and whys no longer matter,only the memories are important.
In the end,
I succeeded in my quest
to find a hidden treasure,
one that I had no way of knowing
was already mine…
In the last year or so, I’ve grown to love my life in Redondo Beach, California. I’ve made it my home by the sea, my very own personal sanctuary. Redondo is a quaint beach city and the kind of place that no one would ever expect to find a witch like me.
I once thought that my roots would remain firmly planted in Northern California, where I was born and raised. But after I started college at Loyola Marymount University and fell in love with the sun filled days and laid back coastal vibes, I knew I was hooked. When I unexpectedly inherited a rather pricey block of beach front property from a great uncle, I’d never even met, my decision to stay was final. I guess this Nor-Cal gal was just meant to be a beach roaming witch.
One thing led to another and before long, I’d finished college and established my own travel agency, Mystical Travel Tours – owned and operated by me, Carynn Cinnamon. And to make the deal even sweeter, I also inherited a cute two bed, two bath condo just upstairs from my business. I really couldn’t have planned it any better if I’d tried.
A magical little town, Redondo Beach is filled with long stretches of open shoreline, an old pier - perfect for fishing or dining out, great year-round weather and some of the friendliest people you’d ever hope to meet. So friendly, that more than a few amazing witches have also made their home near these sandy shores.
I love to walk along the Esplanade during the early morning hours to watch the surfers and swimmers who populate the waters pretty much all year round. My place is not too far from the Riviera Village, a mini mecca of boutique shops, upscale eateries and trendy beauty salons, peppered in between mom and pop fast food joints. It’s a great place to call home.
Not long after moving in, I realized that my condo was in need of some rejuvenation and that’s when my life took a total turn for the strange.
I wasn’t looking to go hog wild DIY’ing my place, just paint a couple walls and buy a new bed. The paint turned out to be no trouble at all. The bed, well, that’s a different story all together.
My old bed had travelled with me from my college days and was due for an overhaul. Or better yet, if I was ever going to get a good night's sleep, I really needed to dump it and find a more suitable one. Rather than just a mattress like I currently own, that rolled around on an old metal frame with four plastic wheels, I dreamt of owning a real grown up piece of furniture – one that would make me finally feel like the twenty-four year old adult I’d become.
The need for a new place to rest my head had grown ever more urgent since I’d snapped off one of the four wheels. Sadly, the bed no longer rolled, but rocked precariously whenever I sat on it or turned over in my sleep. I had to practically straddle the darn thing any time I wanted to sit on it just to put my shoes on.
Luckily, I knew the exact style of bed, I’d been dreaming of. It had to be king sized, made of ornate white metal and sort of Victorian looking. I wanted a headboard, a footboard and a thick, comfortable mattress.
But if you asked me if I wanted a bed that was modern, contemporary, traditional or transitional you’d soon discover my insecurities. Interior decorating is just not my thing as I have less than a drop of talent in that area. Anyone who stopped by my condo would immediately see that my living room walls are pretty much blank, except for some handwoven macramé hangings that used to hold plants, until I forgot to water them and they all died.
By not having distracting stuff all over my walls, I’m free to focus my attention on the ever changing coastal scenes that preview daily through skylights and oversized windows, showering my living room with tons of glorious sunlight. Nature stepped right in to become my personal interior decorator.
Like a giant video screen featuring award winning beach side performances, each day offers realistic illustrations that adorn my home. I never worry about changing the decor – the magic and wonder of nature does that for me, splashing cheerful blue skies, extravagant red and gold sunsets and serene starlit nights all onto my newly painted Willow White walls. I’m delighted when distracting gray puffs of fog sluggishly roll past or soft rain tattoos my windows.
Why I’m going on and on about my lack of decorating paraphernalia will become evident to you soon enough. In the meantime, let’s return to my unexpectedly tumultuous quest for a new bed; there’s so much to tell.
By the time I finally discovered my bed, I had been sucked into one bizarre escapade after another, far more perplexing than any normal bed shopping expedition should ever hope to be.
And to top it off, something else followed me home that day. Something that neither you nor I could ever have predicted.
Nor would we have wanted to.