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A Momma Weekend…a room full (but not too) of women comfortable in their own skin, owning their own words, just “being” where we were. I was struck repeatedly with how amazing that simple truth seemed, we who sat looking at images that appeared bold and daring of women like us, photographed not like us, a soap ad breaking ground and puncturing facades.

Here were new friends, kindred spirits really, people I’d like to see again. It’s been a long time since I created anything in front of others, that vulnerable process that ironically often is best when there is synergy attached, and I left wishing almost instantly that I’d done more, gotten closer with my camera, bid their eyes to look up and right at me, faces being more satisfying subjects than flowers.

Sheets with some kind of wondrous thread count swaddled me at night, the hours full of the most sleep I’ve had in years. Tension in joints and nerves relaxed and stopped their previously incessant vibrations and tingles, the discovery being that it all came from having my arm at a strange angle so as to support that heavy baby head all night long.

Water swirled around my ankles, first in the morning light and then again in the never-stillness of an ocean night, sand actually feeling good on my feet, the sparseness of shells making for a good walking surface. Words mimicked those foamy waves, coming in at intervals and leaving something with me every time to ponder while marveling at the depth of it all.

And here was a scallop! Sweet little ocean offering never a part of my pallet before. “You must try one!” she insisted and so I did. There I found absolutely nothing in my previous experience to compare them to…I think I attempted with “little soft white pillows of ocean”, knowing these were utterly fresh and unique morsels and likely words would not be adequate. Their richness was subtle and came upon me as I finished the plate rather than assault me at the start. I wondered what wine would match the best. “Try them seared next time” she said. I won’t hesitate at my next opportunity and I’ll think of her every time I do. Food and friends….how often one compliments the nuances of another. Surely this is why we match wine as well, looking for that perfect pairing.

Coming home was hours of wind and sunshine, alone with thoughts that needed sorting. Some choices were made and as I drove through lowlands to hills and then to mountains my mind started it’s transition back to my routine, back to demands. I clarified what I need to pray, I answered, “what’s for dinner”, kissed little cheeks belonging to faces that missed me. I knew, like watching a puzzle being put together come into focus, what I needed to do next. It is the gift I take away from the ocean, from friends, from a change of scenery, from rest.

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