[Seek] Deep Breaths

Our first day, a whirlwind of hours of driving, a chilly morning on the beach, tasty lunch from one of our favorite spots, and settling into our cabin, left me exhausted.  Breathing deeply, I settled myself for sleep.

After a fitful night's sleep, I sought out the dawn on the shores of Lake Ossipee. Settling in next to my husband, we enjoyed the quiet of a chilly New Hampshire morning and the glorious early morning sky. Breathing deeply, I enveloped myself in this sacred space and time - peace amidst the chaos of quarantide life.

Breathing deeply, I battled the pain of wrenched ankle and dislocated fingers. Popping my fingers back into place, I reassured my twelve-year-old that all was well as we continued our tubing journey down the Saco River. More deep breaths followed a short time later, after an even worse fall, blood running down my leg from just under my swollen knee. Emerging from the river, I sought only the refuge of my van ... and then of our cabin.

Breathing deeply,  I inhaled the comforting scent of "camp coffee" as I witnessed the dawn while listening to the calls of whippoorwill and loon. I was up before the sun - and before my family - due to intense pain and a dislocated shoulder. Shoulder relocated and coffee/hot chocolate combination in hand, I made my way to the beach to inhale peace, exhale pain, and thank God for our time in this place. 

Breathing deeply, I leaned on my crutches as I struggled against anxiety and panic and to convince myself that I could make it up the hill. Refusing to let the pain overwhelm me, I pressed on. Watching my daughters delight in taking photos of mushrooms and moss and other things from various perspectives brought a smile to my face and peace to my heart. This was a blessed way to spend our last few hours in this place. 

Breathing deeply, I settled in for the relaxation that only comes with the buzzing of a tattoo machine, needles working ink into a permanent art piece in my skin. As our amazing tattoo artist, Jake, my twelve year old daughter, Alia, and I chatted, the familiar sensation quieted my body and mind. That is, until it all came to an abrupt end with a tattoo machine malfunction. With no immediate fix available, we reassured Jake that things happen and it was just an excuse for another road trip to VT and to spend more time catching up with him.

 

I pulled into our driveway completely exhausted and consumed with gratitude that we were home. All I wanted was to eat dinner and sink into my bed for much needed sleep. Good food and a little unpacking later, deep breaths led to deep sleep. 

Breathing deeply, I awoke in my bed, feeling profound gratitude for our time at Calumet, and sadness that our time there was so short. My husband was off to work and I spent the day resting and being gentle with my injured body. Unpacking could wait another day. It was a day to be still, to take deep breaths, to grow in gratitude for this place, this time.