It had been a long year and a half. I was more than excited to see my mother, cuddle with pets and see friends. (friends as in friends are the family you choose kind of friends). These friends literally saved us when we had nowhere to go. The friends that showed up every time! The friends who held us, cried with us, inspired us to keep going and gave me enough space to heal and find the music inside me again. These are no ordinary friends.

So, as I packed I daydreamed of laughing ourselves to tears and the gloriously rich food we would reconnect over. I simply couldn’t wait to see everyone. But something was off. I just wasn’t feeling myself. I thought I just need a good nights sleep as that usually fixes me right up.

Upon arrival, in an abundance of caution, I decided to take a Covid test. Sitting in my friends giant truck, outside of Walgreens, I shook my head in disbelief as the vibrant pink lines declared themselves. I had Covid! I had been vaccinated four times but it still got me. I would have to put off seeing my 83-year-old mother that was for sure! We quickly rearranged our plans. 

Instead of laughing, eating and cajoling with my friends, I found myself isolated in the same carriage house we were in nearly 3 years ago. Again a refuge, but under entirely different circumstances. Surrounded by the austere wintery trees it was quiet and peaceful. Chilly breezes wrapped around the warm sanctuary I was nestled in. It was the perfect place to battle the illness and recover. My daughter stayed in the main house with her best friend in Georgia, so she was happy. I slept, coughed and caught up on all things Netflix.

Nearly a week into my visit, I watched via FaceTime as my mother and daughter opened gifts Christmas morning. I was feeling better but still cloudy and fatigued. I took another test just to see. Negative at last! Hurriedly, I pack my things and headed to family.

Christmas dinner was better than any of the recent past. Partly due to the fact that I thought I’d be having toast in the carriage house. It was fantastic to eat mom‘s cooking and watch recorded episodes of The Curse of Oak Island. The brain fog made the show almost spooky, but we managed to get through all episodes to date. An accomplishment of sorts. Equally wonderful to cuddle with animals who were sufficiently jealous of one another when getting attention. And of course, great to see friends. Albeit briefly, we did manage to get some good hearty  laughing in. Always worth it.

It wasn’t the trip I imagine, but it was healing. Literally.