I galloped up the hill like the cedar waxwings bounce between aspen branches. Effortless, fun and fast, relishing the pure joy of just being able to do so.
I had received a text from a friend a few hours prior. Want to go for a run??? it read. And then she walked with my kids to the park so I could.
Andy has been out of town and I was really looking forward to this time with my girls. Our ship set out on a hopeful mission of exploration and instead landed in a dizzying storm. For two days we took on water, leaned hopelessly starboard, unable to discern stars. I tried so hard to turn us around. Again and again I failed at navigating our angry sea. I surrendered to the squall. I fell asleep.
And when I woke the next morning, the waves had settled into a rhythmic rocking. Still present, but manageable. The sky still hung low and gray, a reminder. But not ominous. Just present.
Just as I was about to pull just one more shot of espresso to help dry my soggy frame, that text came in. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than a run. Alone. Well, with Alice.
I felt my body unravel into the mountain, the earth graciously accepting and dissolving my frustration. I smiled at the luckiness of this simple act. To run.
I went further than I’d planned and ended right at the corner of love and strength. I felt electric and ready to steer our ship home. We had a fabulous voyage to port.
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I wrote this week’s mama digs in the middle of the storm — at 11pm and two days past my deadline. When I reread it today it feels so melodramatic. But, indeed it was my reality when I typed those words. Click to read mama digs: raging unpredictability.
