Just. Breathe.

The immense blue of the sky reached down into my chest and expanded there, no matter that the size of my ribcage is akin to a grain of sand in comparison. The highway stretched on, up, and over the land as we traversed the length of it on our way from the airport. The mountains hung like a back drop in the distance, unreal in their flatness, sunlight cascading down through the clouds in beatific streams. From my first step into the airport, I felt like I could breathe easier. Everything is cleaner here, the atmosphere everywhere more crisp. I can almost reach out and touch the air, it is so present in front of me.

I chase the sunlight to the edge of the yard, soaking it up like a sponge, thankful for the darkness of my jeans warming up like a heating blanket. The grass is lush, shiny and cool on my bare feet; the water from the tap liquid silk in my throat. The hours given to me here are frightening at times in their multitude, but it is no easy feat to learn the art of being. I read somewhere recently that more can be learned in a moment of silence than all the noise in the world could ever teach.