It’s that feeling

This might sound kind of weird, but sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and be at complete and utter peace. I don’t mean that in a morbid way at all, more like I wish I could just go to sleep and be in complete silence—no thoughts, no worries, no hurt, no responsibility, completely safe, completely healthy, with just the quiet sound of my breath rising and falling.

It’s that feeling.

When I have tried to describe this feeling, I imagine myself completely submerged in warm water. There’s that underwater sound where everything is muffled and you can’t really make out anything. It’s quiet, but very much alive. I’d like to be in that moment and hit pause. I’d feel that blending of stillness and unstoppable movement. I’d hear that quiet noise. Eyes squeezed shut so that I only hear the silence and only feel the warmth. And then, after that brief moment, I’d find this innate strength to push off of the bottom with my feet and break the barrier where the water meets the air and take that big gulp of air, feel the air meet my skin, open my eyes and be momentarily blinded by the brightness of the sun reflecting off of the water on my eye lashes-- and feel very much alive.

It’s that feeling.

Sometimes I think back to a trip to Mexico and I remember the best nap of my entire life. It was warm and sunny and there was a sea-kissed breeze. I could hear the sea splashing on the sand. I sat under the shade of a palm tree. The love of my life was by my side and I felt safe and secure. And I slept. And I woke up refreshed, alive, and happy.

It’s that feeling.