As I remember it, the skies were gray and angry spitting an annoying rain, just enough to warrant wellies, but not enough to mind one's hair. It was the day I broke through the back door of the church to experience the beauty of the milk glass windows, and you turned the other way, embarrassed by my intrusion. Remember how we walked around uninspired by the dismal day when suddenly it hit. That is how I will remember Half Moon Bay. Not the gray day or the lack of things to do, but the look on your face when suddenly it all made sense.