Nine: Leap Year Day

Sitting on the sand at Seaside with many, many women. Turns out it's the Aloe Vera-- I mean, Vera Bradley -- Run tomorrow and the place is packed.
But we don't care.
Natalie is home for the weekend! She wanted to come here, no doubt for the memories. We've been visiting 30A for decades. She's grown up vacationing here.
We rode bikes on the paths, we ate at Pizza by the Sea, we walked through the Shops of Seaside, and now we sit on the beach and breathe in the sea, the sand, the sun.
So deeply satisfying to have her here. To share stories of the past month, to have long, easy, conversations, to just be together.

I'm deeply grateful for the Gulf of Mexico, our happy place, for its ability to take me to that peace in my soul where all is always well.
The sun glistens brightly off the water and the breeze is strong, making the surf loud enough to drown the voices of people nearby. I take the first deep breath of the day, and the second.
I didn't listen to my intentions yet, so I do it now.
I've recorded myself saying words that conjure images of how I want my life to look. Laughter. Ease. Fun. Kindness. Connection. Beautiful music. Purpose. Clarity. Prosperity. Peace. Lightness. Exhilaration. Beauty. Nature. Enthusiasm. Family. Friends. Confidence. Excellent health.
When I feel the words, I'm one step closer to living them all day, every day.
Today, I smile at Family. Nature. Fun. I would add the word gratitude, but appreciation is at the core of every single word, especially today.
Photo credits: Chris Zokan

The New Path

            A year ago today; Chris was driving the girls and me to our favorite bike-riding path and telling us about a dream from the night before.  "This tall woman, she could have been a queen, came to me," he said.  "She made some kind of pronouncement like, 'Your orders have changed.  You are now on a new path.'  Then she walked away.  Weird, huh?”

"Wonder what that means," I said, flipping through a magazine, my foot on the dashboard. 



Minutes before the accident

Four hours later, an ER doctor announced Chris had broken his back and fractured his neck.  He had tumbled off his bike in what seemed like a harmless accident, but clearly was not.  Mere millimeters stood between Chris and paralysis, or death.

That day was a blur of phone calls, surgery, prayer, and deep gratitude that Chris had survived.  Friends and family were amazing.  Neighbors Megan and Larry Jowers drove almost two hours to the Destin Hospital to get our house key so they could let the dogs out.  They took the girls to dinner, and were a huge comfort to me while Chris was in surgery.  

My brother Dave drove in from Atlanta, arriving at eleven at night, to take the girls home to our house.  He stayed with us for days, helping take care of Chris while I tried to wrap my head around what had happened. 


And now it's been a year.  Chris has recovered almost completely, and much of it has to do with his own strength and will.  He had great doctors and physical therapists, but treating himself as if he were his own Personal Trainer, working hard to recover, has been downright inspirational.

The experience changed us both, set us on a new path.  Chris and I are more grateful for our dear family and friends, and more aware of the precious gift that is good health to enjoy this life.  So today we look back, with a little trepidation, then forward with gratitude.  We're going on a commemorative bike ride this afternoon.  Join us!