Paradise Cove WC:279

Paradise Cove
WC 279

My son and I watched the sun sink into the ocean.

“Remember when we found that cave, Mom?”

I remembered the tiny, man-made cave carved into the hill along the beach.

“When was that?” I asked.

“It’s been at least five years, if not more. Should we see if we can find it tomorrow morning?”

I was visiting him for a few weeks; we were running out of things to do other than eat at Paradise Cove and walk the Malibu beach.

“Sounds like an adventure,” I said without thinking it through.


The sun had been up for an hour when we arrived at the cave. Chris started up the incline. I was much younger when I climbed this hill last and regretted saying “yes” halfway up.

The walls of the cave had shifted some since I was there last. The opening was much smaller than I remembered. It looked dangerous. Chris's miner’s light strapped to his forehead, disappeared through the opening.

“Come on, Mom!”

“I don’t know about this, honey. This is a dangerous place.”

“No, it isn’t. Come on.”

My son has always been a daredevil. I am not.

“Seriously, Chris, it does not look safe anymore. Please come out.”

He went in deeper.

“Please, Chris!”

“Okay, okay,” he said and climbed out.

I could tell he wasn’t happy, but he was safe. We climbed down the hill to the beach and walked on in silence. I heard a rumbling sound from behind and looked back to see the opening to the cave collapse.

“Wow, we dodged a bullet. Thanks, Mom!”

“That’s what mothers are for.”

We walked toward the restaurant, hand in hand, headed for a delicious breakfast.