Everywhere I turn, there’s something new and exciting. I didn’t realize how monotonous orange could be. Here, surrounded by a multitude of landscapes, I feel like I can breathe deeply, freely, though the air is thick with moisture and the dampness slicks my skin.
It’s rejuvenating in only the way living by the ocean and mountains can be. I could do without the humidity, but I enjoy that it feelslike a different universe here. It helps my brain as it fights the urge to panic.
I’m not moving very fast, but my heart rate continues to rise, and I feel the weight of my phone in my pocket. The pressure swells in my chest, my breaths coming in short and shallow.
I go for as long as I can without having to stop. It feels like hours, but it’s probably only been a few minutes.
Resisting the urge to check my phone becomes more difficult. What if something happened? That was the habit my therapist said I needed to break, especially while triggered. I have to retrain my brain.
Running does not equal catastrophe. Running does not equal tragedy.
“Nothing bad is happening right now,” I repeat to myself under my breath, begging my heart to stay in my chest. I say the words over and over, ignoring the strange looks and offers of help.
“I’m okay,” I lie as I try to avoid another person asking after me.
Physically, I’m okay, even though my legs aren’t sure what’s happening. But mentally? I shake my head, not allowing myself to go down that road. I blast the music louder, drowning out my ability to think, and my body follows suit.
I begin running again and tune out the thoughts that refuse to stay buried. I try an exercise my therapist taught me and watch them go by like I’m on a train. I pass by and don’t judge them. Instead, I talk to them. I tell them it’s okay to feel scared. I comfort them and they slowly begin to let me breathe again.
The path takes me down to the bay and I can’t stop an audible gasp as my footsteps stutter to a stop. As far out as I can see, the water level is completely down and there are ships on the sand, the low tide stranding them. I was told this happened but hadn’t seen it yet.
It’s amazing, and for the first time in a long time, I do something impulsive that might actually be the best possible decision in this moment.
I take my shoes and socks off and step onto the cold sand, watching as my feet make small pools. I know it’s safe because there are people so far out they’re pinpricks in the distance. Dogs run around freely, and I’m already making plans to bring Q sometime. She’ll love this.
As I walk, the water beneath the surface bubbles between my toes and I feel grounded in the sand. Needing more connection to the scene around me, I turn my music off and take my earbuds out. The sound of whistling wind fills the silence.
And there is silence.
My brain is finally quiet as I soak in this unexpected marvel. I walk so far that when I turn back, I can see the whole city of Vancouver with the mountains in the background, and I’m standing near the middle of the bay. It’s incredible.
I’m not sure why but this place, this exact spot where my feet sink into the sand, and the wide expanse of landscape feels like the most peaceful place I’ve ever been. And that is saying something. Utah is breathtaking, full of so many hidden gems within driving distance.
But here, standing where in a few hours there will be all manner of sea life, whales even, stealing a glimpse of the ocean floor, my heartexpands and I drop to my knees. Tears flow down my face, and I know my mom is giving me this. Even if I don’t get to keep my job, she wanted me to be in this moment, right here.
“I miss you,” I whisper into the wind and imagine it’s carrying my message up to her. An unexpected warm gust blows around me, caressing my skin. It feels like magic. I laugh, big and full, and that giant hole in my heart, the one that makes it hard for me to breathe, for me to feel, it fills.
It fills with gratitude for the memories I have, for the kind of mother she was and still is. For my sister and my nephew. For this beautiful space I’m making for myself in this new city.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, Iwant.
I’m sitting on myunfinished, very unlevel deck, watching people dot the bay. They are indistinguishable blobs, but I love watching them run around as I eat lunch and obsessively check my phone for any emails from Paige.
She didn’t answer my last one, and I’m getting anxious. Did I push her too far?
I’m distracted by my thoughts when one of the figures comes close enough that my mouth drops. She stands looking at the city and then drops to her knees, her face lifting towards the sky.
Paige.
I freeze mid-chew. I’m not sure how I know it’s her—I can’t see her features, but it’s like I can feel her presence. I sense I may be intruding on something private, but I’m suspended in this moment, much like she seems to be.
What’s she doing? Is she okay? Then I notice the shoes she’s placed on the sand and my heart lurches. The blue ones from the ultra. She was out running.
A grin spreads over my face and I turn to go back inside, giving her peace. Not for long, though, because I don’t have that much self-control.
I keep peeking out the window, watching as she eventually gets up and makes her way back to the city, disappearing into the horizon.
She’s going through something, that much has been obvious. I wish she’d confide in me, but it’s not like we’re friends.