Since the moment Daphnie left my world, things have been so, so quiet. I say this in both an internal and literal sense. Not a day goes by that I don't come home and hesitate to open the door. With a deep breath, key ready and pointed toward the knob, I wait, sometimes for a second, sometimes longer. Pushing that door open is the most difficult moment of my day. The silence on the other side of it is suffocating. I've been trying to let myself get comfortable with it in little doses though, forcing myself to be at home alone and sometimes not play any music while I edit photos or wash dishes. I've been trying to sit with the quiet too, not doing anything, listening to the crickets and frogs that chirp at night or the traffic that whizzes past in the distance. Eventually though it's too much and the only thing that seems to cure it is going outside, specifically to the river.
So, on Saturday Scott and I went to Bakers Bridge. I packed a picnic lunch of cold leftover meatloaf sandwiches, cherry tomatoes from our garden, and two beers. Books in hand and wearing our swimsuits we found a quiet spot and enjoyed doing nothing. The quiet void inside me filled with a loud roar of the babbling river next to the rock we were perched on. The sun bathed me in a cleansing way I've craved all summer. It was the perfect way to spend the afternoon. There's a quote I read years ago that really stuck with me. "The cure for anything is salt water: tears, sweat, or the sea." - Isak Dinesen The Animas river is far from being an ocean, but I can feel it heal me in the same heart-tugging way.