a quiet cure | Bakers Bridge, Durango, CO.

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Since the moment Daphnie left my world, things have been so, so quiet. I say this in both an internal and literal sense. Not a day goes by that I don't come home and hesitate to open the door. With a deep breath, key ready and pointed toward the knob, I wait, sometimes for a second, sometimes longer. Pushing that door open is the most difficult moment of my day. The silence on the other side of it is suffocating. I've been trying to let myself get comfortable with it in little doses though, forcing myself to be at home alone and sometimes not play any music while I edit photos or wash dishes. I've been trying to sit with the quiet too, not doing anything, listening to the crickets and frogs that chirp at night or the traffic that whizzes past in the distance. Eventually though it's too much and the only thing that seems to cure it is going outside, specifically to the river.

So, on Saturday Scott and I went to Bakers Bridge. I packed a picnic lunch of cold leftover meatloaf sandwiches, cherry tomatoes from our garden, and two beers. Books in hand and wearing our swimsuits we found a quiet spot and enjoyed doing nothing. The quiet void inside me filled with a loud roar of the babbling river next to the rock we were perched on. The sun bathed me in a cleansing way I've craved all summer. It was the perfect way to spend the afternoon. There's a quote I read years ago that really stuck with me. "The cure for anything is salt water: tears, sweat, or the sea." - Isak Dinesen  The Animas river is far from being an ocean, but I can feel it heal me in the same heart-tugging way.

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The Epic Chair Adventure

When my friend Lauren told me she was headed north for a wedding in Grand Junction a few weeks back I asked if she could pick up some chairs for me that I bought on Craigslist. After she broke it to me that it was out of the way and that there was no possibility the chairs would fit into her small Ford Focus, I was back to square one. I had bought them in early June on one of my quick morning Craigslist searches while I sipped my coffee and started my morning. I was on a hunt for patio furniture, among other things for our home, seeing as all of a sudden it was summer and all I could do was daydream about drinking coffee with Scott at a cafe table for two, cuddling at night on an outdoor sofa, sun bathing on a comfy chaise lounger with a book, or having plenty of comfy seating for guests. These chairs weren't patio furniture though. Instead, they were a perfect addition to the imaginary table we were going to build - or at least we keep saying we're going to build, if we could ever find the time. They were also from the original owner who had bought them in the 50's and a much better price than the imitation remakes I'd been seeing online, the only downfall being that they were five hours away.

Photo by my ever-so-talented boyfriend^^

Skip ahead two months. All the guests staying with us over the summer were gone, the house was quiet without my dog, and the stressful summer we'd finally survived was feeling like it was giving us the time we needed to breath. We decided to get the chairs and make a trip out of it, thankful that the chairs had been relocated to a home only three hours away. What started as a trip to get furniture ended up being referred to as “The epic chair adventure!” It was a getaway Scott and I didn’t even realize we needed until we were in the thick of it. We were in need of all the things we didn’t know we needed: mountains, road trip music, hot springs, camping, full moons, wine tasting, wine buying, exploring new towns, art festivals, a breakfast date, scenery, roadside peaches (the drip-down-your-chin-they’re-so-juicy kind of peaches), treasure hunting in vintage shops, chocolate malts, and picture taking.

I had a lot of time to think while we were on the road. There were a few times I wanted to roll my eyes at myself for being such a girl and buying these ridiculous chairs I didn't need. But then I realized, somewhere on the winding mountain roads as they lead me further and further away from home, that I did need them. Call it retail therapy if you want, but I think life has a funny way of coming full circle and giving you exactly what you need exactly when you need it. I NEEDED the open road. I needed to get away. I needed everything but the chairs really. The chairs were just an excuse, a vehicle really, to get us where we needed to be.

Lauren told me later that she secretly wanted to say no regardless of the size of her car. She knew, being the good friend she is, that if we were forced to make the trek, it would be exactly what the doctor ordered. I love Lauren for that and I love my chairs. I love the magic that transpired while going to get them too. I also love the vintage chase lounge we found in Ridgeway (for a steal!) on our way back to Durango that now completes my patio daydreams. And because I'm silly and didn’t bring my camera, here are a few snapshots from my iphone that document the Adventure.

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Our glorious, free campsite after hours of searching for an available spot.

The remainder of our tailgate picnic dinner at our campsite prior to a soak at Orvis Hot Springs.

Unforgettable breakfast at Kate's Place in Ridgeway, CO.

The Trading Post in Paonia, complete with fresh, local peaches and a complementary violinist!

Azura winery and art gallery. Delightful.

An amazing wheat paste mural by Chip Thomas at the Church of Art in Hotchkiss, CO. Check out more of his murals HERE. And to hear a short interview on this piece, check out this WEBSITE.

And finally, the chairs (!) making their way home.

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Dear Daphnie

Dear Daphnie,

It's been two weeks today that I woke up and you couldn't walk. Your breath was short, and strained, and I knew. I knew that it was the day. After laying with you for hours on the bedroom floor, crying and having one of the hardest talks with you that I've ever had to have, Scott called the vet for me and we made an appointment to take you in and put your strong little body to rest.

It was two weeks today that we never made it to the vet. Instead, you left us in the comfort of our living room in a moment that was both immensely traumatic and peaceful beyond words. It was what I had wanted all along, to let you die naturally at home on your own time. The week before you left me was so beautifully perfect, like a concert concerto leading up to the big crescendo. I drove you into the mountains, letting the cool air touch your face out of the car window, putting a smile on your face. I put your feet in the river and you looked so happy. I even took you to your favorite spot outside of Durango (see photos), and although you were too winded to walk much, it gave me peace that we could share that place together one last time. And the way you reached out and put your paw on my arm as I sang to you before you died, it killed me with sweetness and reminded me that you and me, we "got" eachother. We understood the way sisters do, that our love was endless, even in the hours that framed death.

You are missed beyond words. I hate being home and I cry for your at least once a day. I never realized how exhausting it would be to be strong and wear a smile around people during the day. It's the silence that makes it so hard and the littlest things that are so different. It's a life I never wanted to know; the life without you. I honestly hate it, but I know it will get easier. I feel like August 2014 is a new chapter in my life. It's a time to put thoughts into actions, take care of myself, and make some changes. This hole in my chest feels like a roadblock though. It hurts to move forward and so I find myself in this internal tug-of-war with myself, not knowing if I should sit quietly with this grief, or get out and take action on my life. Just know, wherever you are, that you are right next to me in whatever I do. You were so much more than my pet. You were my companion and life-mate; my best friend and sister. Thank you, for almost 15 years of unconditional love.

You beautiful, beautiful girl.

These two photos were taken by my wonderful friend and photographer, Claire, who happened to be visiting the week Daphnie passed. I can't thank her enough for snapping a few images of us and for being the most amazing support and love we needed at such a difficult time. Daphnie sure loved her Auntie Claire!

And thank YOU (family/friends/blog readers) for being so wonderful and so kind. Your words have meant so much. And Durango friends, I haven't felt like myself much lately, so I apologize for my quiet nature, my anti-social responses, and for being a little unlike myself. I'm trying to figure out what "normal" is again.

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