My Peaceful Place

Remember the first time I took you skiing, my girl? You loved it. You were about 10 years old. Wide open and no fear. When you’re small and already that close to the ground, it’s just nothing but snow-drifting, hair flying, feet sliding fun! Hot chocolate breaks and french fry lunches were so yummy and satisfying.

My peaceful place – the one I try to get myself to when I need to stay calm and re-group is that snapshot of a moment, standing completely alone right at the top of the run.  My skis are pointing straight ahead, ready to go. Listen. It’s so quiet you can hear the snow falling. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The breeze is moving softly through the treetops. That’s the moment. Just that one brief awesome moment before I push off. Then all hell breaks loose with an explosion of frenetic energy. After that, all I can think about is staying focused and working hard to maintain what seems like a controlled fall down the long snowy slope.

When I feel the hardest moments coming, I try to place myself on the top of that peaceful snowy mountain. I try to sustain that peace for as many seconds as I can manage because I know the fall is going to be long and tough.

I miss you. So much.

2 thoughts on “My Peaceful Place

  1. Anita Stout

    I don’t even know how I came across your blog this afternoon. I’ve spent so much time reading it from the beginning all the way to here. It’s so hauntingly compelling. I was pulled in immediately and I’m sure I’ll spend the rest of the night thinking about your messages to your missing daughter. So many questions come up. There are so many ways to lose someone. I feel at times I’ve lost my daughter although I know exactly where she is. There is nothing so heartbreaking as loving someone so deeply and for so long before they could even be aware of it and then not to have them there either physically or emotionally anymore.
    All the memories remain brilliant and lifelike.
    My heart goes out to you and I don’t even know you, but I know somewhat of your pain. Thank you for sharing these beautiful messages.

    1. Post author

      Hi Anita,
      Thank you for reading. I am so sorry that you can identify with my feelings of loss. I know I’m not the only person in the world that feels this pain, but until this very moment it has felt that way. My heart is broken for you that you understand.

      Suzan Chamberlain


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