Gray

There are only a few days in a person’s life when perfection kisses them. For me, it was wrapped in a mist of gray.

We rounded a corner to find a sign on the road that said Clam Beach State Park. Being that we had no hard and fast plans we had the ability to pull in and park. The day was for me gloriously grey and drizzling. Raindrops splashed gently on the windshield, the sky played in various shades of velvety grey. The air was charged with magick. It shimmered at the edges of the soft outlines, blinking an occasional blue or pink, just to let us know it was there. As we approached the beach, everything shifted.

Words fall short of what I felt as I crossed the little wooden pathway that lead over a freshwater stream. Around this tiny foot bridge thousands of foxglove in every shade of yellow grew, they seemed like perfect little stars swimming in a sea of soft green foliage. They were taller then I was and danced lazily in the mist. I stopped. I breathed. At that moment a delicate veil of softest silk dropped around me, I could see the car, but at the same time I could no longer see it. I was drawn forward, with the deep grey sand and perfect steel water, I knew I was in another place and time. It was palpable.

The huge evergreens were outlined with mist, making them look smudged as if by chalk on canvas. Frothy white waves kissed and held the sand, depositing treasures that are still held in the sacred places of my home. The mist settled over everything. All shades of gray held me that day. It cradled my heart, the love I felt was deep and could only come from a mother. Our Mother. With each step that day, my diseased and crooked back hurt less and less. I could almost remember what it was to walk without pain. The silver gray beach allowed me that gift. There was hardly anyone else there, the sound of the sea enveloped everything in a strange and strange song. This song had been sung for millions of years and I heard everything that day; even when blanketed in mist.

When it was finally too wet and too cold, we walked back over the little wooden bridge. The veil pulled away from me and I felt it go. It broke my heart with its beauty and its rarity. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks, tears of gratitude. As the car pulled further away my pain came roaring back. But for that afternoon, I stopped hurting.

I know that is where I need to be, where I belong. Along that cracked edge where one state meets another and land meets the sea. The space where the mind and body can rest, heal and try again. A rain washed fresh start. My heart longs for this place, for the gray and green fuzzy edges of ancient trees. The breathing of the sea as rain falls into the arms of the oldest and wisest has called me home.