I sat cross-legged, focusing on my breathing. Breath in. Breath out. My online yoga coach gently guided the practice and then said “search for your serenity”. My mind immediately jumped to one year ago, a time when the entire world was spiraling as a global pandemic began killing hundreds of thousands. As incongruous as it seems, my memories of April 2020 are some of the most peaceful and serene of any in the last few years. The exact image that brought me peace; remembering the pure contentment on Aspen’s face as we watched the sunset over the bay.

 Human nature is a fascinating study in the most boring of times and the worldwide chaos of the past 16 months of COVID, political turmoil, and any number of protests has created immense divides, even among family and friends. While so many we know spent April 2020 and beyond in a panicked, depressed state over layoffs, misinformation, and the challenges of homeschooling kids and learning to live in this new normal, we found ourselves extraordinarily fortunate to have found a peaceful little bubble to exist in.

Not that we didn’t face our own set of challenges. We had just returned back to Bay Point Landing in Coos Bay after 6 weeks road tripping to Baja and back with our Baja Amigo’s caravan group. While we relished the sun, sea, and sand along with endless fish tacos and visiting friends, we felt a slight but constant worry over Aspen’s health decline and her ability to withstand the trip. Luckily, she flourished in the warm sun and slow pace of life south of the border.

Back in Coos Bay we met our new manager and worked a mere 4 days before the resort was shut down due to new COVID restrictions. I was fully furloughed while Jim was kept on for a mere 12 hours/week. NOT ideal. Even worse was dealing with unemployment insurance after having worked in three different states in the previous one-year period. Endless hours over two months and over 1000 unanswered calls tested our patience and never did garner an actual conversation with a human. However, there is always light amongst the darkness and the good news; we were able to remain living onsite for free until the resort reopened.

I had taken on a new writing contract while still in Baja and this pause in camp work left me open to take on more work. The spring weather was pleasant. Aspen was doing well. In spite of the scary nature of the world at large, our little trailer life took on a truly relaxed pace.

Every day we slept in, had a leisurely breakfast, and strolled slowly to the beach to accommodate our ever-aging sweet baby girl. Jim would work a few hours per week and I’d spend my days hanging with Aspen and writing reviews of camping gear ranging from portable toilets to 6-person tents. 

We took naps and spent time visiting Jim’s parents. 

And each evening we would every so slowly make our way back to the beach. Although only a couple of hundred feet from our trailer, walking was becoming more and more of a struggle so we took our time, resting when she needed to rest. Once at the beach, her face would light up and on rare occasions, a short trot would occur. After a short walk to do her business we would all sit in silence and watch the water.

Aspen had always been a force of nature and her personality was 100% in forward motion or 100% chill. Even when on a long line at camp or on her leash her she would be at the very end, muscles flexed, ready to spring into action. Her spirit remained intact but even her potent attitude had come to recognize that the days of running and fetching were behind her and for the first time she was capable of lying on the beach and simply watching the action around her without feeling the need to participate.

Even now my heart sings remembering the look of peace on her face as she would raise her nose slightly, embracing the smells of the sea. She would lie quietly between us watching the birds swoop and the waves lap against the shore. Jim & I rarely spoke in those moments, simply embracing our time with her and La Dolce far Niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. Of course, in reality, I shed more than a few tears that month. Even as I relished in these moments I sat knowing the end was never far away.

In due course, her lab stomach would call to her and she would be ready to return to the trailer for dinner and the slow amble home would begin.

Those days were, dare I say, nearly idyllic. It seems odd to write this even now, knowing full well how most of the world was experiencing a myriad of much more anxious emotions, but for our little family that month spent almost completely alone on a sandy beach with nearly unlimited time together was priceless. 

These last eight months have been far less idyllic. The loss of Aspen still sends me spiraling at unexpected moments and although the new locale, new job, and new fur baby are all great, to say it’s been stressful at times is an understatement. 

Still, in sleepless moments or while searching for serenity, peace is never far away as I look back on that one tranquil moment in time that I will forever hold dear to my heart.