Last night was magical. One of those nights that happens once in a blue moon, when every part of you wants to be exactly where you are in the present moment. We paddled towards golden sunbeams hugging the Olympic Mountain Range. Best way to describe it: front row seats to heaven. Paddling through the still water felt like slicing a knife through whipped butter. There was no wind – just subtle waves rocking our boards ever so gently above hundreds of tiny fish.
Tears filed my eyes as we paddled into oblivion. I know that sounds dramatic, but they were euphoric tears. Tears of overwhelming gratitude – and possibly disbelief – that I get to lead this life.
I hope to hold on to this night – and this feeling – forever. To remember it in its purest form. As a symbol of what is, and what’s to come. As a subtle nudge that summer is ending, but not yet over. And as a reminder that in a sense, it’s the coming back, the return, which gives meaning to the going forth. We really don’t know where we’ve been until we’ve come back to where we were. Only, where we were may not be as it was because of who we’ve become which, after all, is why we left. <3 Thank you, Seattle.