Between The Waves

This is the landscape where I found myself again,
when I didn’t know I was lost.
 
My youngest started school full time.
Finally time to write my book on how to be badass!
But my inspiration seeped into the soil, washed away by the Seattle fall rain,
and my mood darkened alongside the ever-shortening days.
 
And I was stuck,
cycling through life’s mundanities,
finding joy in the little moments,
but searching for greater fulfillment.
My house had never been cleaner,
An endless stream of laundry,
and dishes,
and dinners prepared,
making sourdough and sandwich bread
hoping my mood would rise alongside every loaf.
 
And then came my December birthday,
and I cried but I didn’t know why,
not really,
No party, I insisted.
Let me slip into forty-five quietly.
 
January brought me to Costa Rica
on a long-awaited surf trip.
Women only
adventure with my high school bestie,
a friendship regrowing after decades of our paths being parted
by mistakes, then geography, and life.
Brought back together
through time, forgiveness, and surf over the previous few years.
 
Late night chat in the middle of the jungle
about life and love and fulfillment.
“You seem closed off.”
She echoed the words of my husband.
And I thought,
and spoke of the numbness,
and realized I was lost.
 
Belly down on my board alongside my surf coach Angie,
we waited for waves, and spoke
of life and love and fulfillment,
and she asked me,
“If you could have any job what would it be?”
 
An artist.
 
So I took photos of the beautiful jungle and beaches,
of sunsets that bring tears,
and flowers that droop in the heavy rain but open anew in the morning sun,
and enjoyed my moments with the women around me,
all there for the waves but finding connection
and maybe some healing.
 
When I came home I was ready to be an artist,
so I painted the jungle beach
where I found myself again.