Waking to the smell of rain from my open window was refreshing today. It’s been oddly warm up here. I’ve found myself in an strange position of running the unit I’m on overnight, makes days like today precious for sleeping.

I’ve met a lot of people in my life but something tells me that I’ve met the same people over and over in different forms.

Up here, nature is everywhere. Some complain there isn’t enough to do but I’d beg to differ, there’s plenty to do, up here in the thickly forested mountains.

A woman at work last week took over for me and told me to call her if I started to fall asleep on the road driving back to my kids. I had to wring back my emotions. She’s my mother’s age and she’s nothing like her at all. I find myself drawn to these women because their energy is something I’ve been searching for in my own mother, only to have to create it for myself. “Don’t cling Sharon!” I tell myself every time a woman her age offers me simple motherly gestures.

She’s not the only one, I’ve found that energy seeping off a couple of other women who sit with me at the desk some nights. It’s healing, and it’s comforting. And whether they know it or not, they bring peace into my life. Like mothers do.

Maybe the mountains have more to show me than softly falling leaves and sparkling brooks. Maybe the mountains, old as they are, have begun to nurture me, like a mother would. It’s healing up here there is no doubt.

It’s hard to explain the warmth I feel in my chest, the peace I feel in my soul, and the weight of everything I’ve been holding onto lifted. I don’t need to carry any of it around anymore, I have myself, and the mountain of matriarchal energy flowing through me.