I’ve been worried because I’ve felt that I have nothing more to say. No more stories. No more memories to share. No more memories to make. I’ve been so quiet. Not mute (far from it!) — perhaps just on pause. I think this is the quiet time that must come before one can skip in the waves again, and it’s a good thing. The stage in healing, perhaps, that finally comes and allows your stomach to relax, and the ability to breathe easier, in the realization that you are getting better.  I finally feel rested from the torrent of emotions that have kept me rocking and rolling for some time.

I keep finding more reasons to smile, to laugh, to feel calm, and fewer reasons to cry, to sulk, to feel sorry for myself. Yes, I think my trip to Carmel last week played a big part in that. The ocean, the warm sand under my feet, the salt air, children and dogs reminding me how to play, the trees, the butterfly sanctuary — these are the elixirs that my heart needed. And their healing benefits are strong and long-lasting.

So, today I’m pretty sure I’ve got some stories left in me. They’ll come when they’re ready. For now, I’ll just sit with this peaceful feeling and be grateful that it has come.