She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. In retrospect it seemed to be an involuntary action, happening due to a compulsion she couldn’t stop rather than something she had decided upon. At one point she was in her house in SE Portland, hurriedly putting on her makeup to attend the first Zoom conference call of the day and the next she was driving on a gravel road, a trail of dust rising toward the sky in her rearview mirror.

The 826 miles between her locale during the Zoom meeting and where the blue dot on her phone told her she was indicated that some time had passed but she barely had any recollection.  The directions were on out of habit, the catatonic sounding female voice stating directions such as “bear right in 100 ft” providing needed variety to the old mix cd she had been playing on loop.

Her phone started quacking. A* could hardly remember the inside joke that had resulted in this ringtone that had once lovingly reminded her of that time. Now she felt a feeling of unease wash over her as she pushed the button on the side of her phone to silence her sister’s call. It went to voicemail, which was full, as it usually was but more helpful at this time.

Where was she supposed to say she was?

Where was she supposed to say she was going?

Siri text to: SISTER - “At meditation retreat” 

What? Where did that come from? Instinct perhaps. She was only thinking in the present.  That curve ahead looked beautiful with the light filtering through the trees. Surprising herself, she pulled the wheel quickly to the right to avoid a sharp rock in the road. The small hatchback then turned off the main road onto a two-track toward the river. The small set of rapids called her and a kink was beginning to form in her neck from the driving. She couldn’t check into her Airbnb until 2pm anyhow. The grass scratched the underbelly of the car knocking loose the dirt from the drive and similarly awakening the driver.

 Stopping at an area close to the river that had clearly been used recently by other campers, A* stretched and opened the back of her car to find a blanket. The back seat and truck area were strewn with clothes, an aeropress, an assortment of chargers, an errant dumbbell and in one corner the duvet and pillows from her bed. Fuck it she thought and grabbed the duvet and pillows. Instead of placing them in the open next to the area trodden down by previous visitors she placed them atop a bed of old cottonwood leaves behind some willows. Returning to the car to grab the cooler, she noted that it was hardly visible from the stream and decided to lock it just in case. Surprisingly, the cooler contained a pear, goat cheese and ritz crackers - nothing fancy but just right for a riverside snack. Stretching out her legs and arms, wriggling her hips and bending to her toes to release the tension in her hamstrings felt simply delicious.

Here she was, phone in the car, cut off from the heightened tension in the Covid pandemic world, nestled into her feather duvet and entourage of pillows next to a river that was murmuring to her softly with a favorite snack in hand. Cracker crumbs adorning the smile that slowly turned into the relaxed facade of one in deep slumber. She slept.

It was the first real sleep, not sleeping pill or wine induced, since the beginning of the pandemic. Exactly one REM cycle later, she startled awake. Drool crusting one side of her mouth, she knew she’d slept hard. Pulling the pillow from her face she saw sunlight peeking through branches and water burbling through small rapids. She stretched again and cuddled into the blankets and scene around her. This must be it she thought, reflecting upon the article she’d read about the Japanese tradition of shinrin-yoku, forest bathing. The calm of the forest and nearby river had washed over her allowing her to sleep for the first time in months.

The ads on TV and in the side bar of browser windows had confounded her regarding sleep pills and meditation and anit-anxiety prior to the pandemic but as work became more stressful and Peter began to irritate her more and more, she began to sleep less and less.

; A week ago, she ended up staying up all night looking at Airbnb. It began as a distraction and quickly became an obsession. Who knew you could gain this insight into other peoples homes and lives? With a few clicks you can see how people live. Obviously, it is purified and prepped and cleaned but knowing that you can see, glimpse, into what life could be. What you could be or at least test drive. And for A* what started as a therapy ended up as a reality. Scrolling for hours at night A*’s goals changed from distraction to objective. Once the portal to possibility was opened, there was no going back. This could only be seen in retrospect, however.

  A* had looked through well over 2.5k listing before happening upon the one. The off grid A-frame was overlooking a meadow that abutted a small stream. There was a wood stove that you used to cook, a bathroom with a self composting toilet and water that flowed down from a spring above. It stated that internet was available. As A* nestled into her blankets, attempting to preserve the feeling of peaceful slumber, she saw a boat round the bend. Absolutely silent, three men in a drift boat came into view, one in the bow, one on the oars, and one in the stern. All three bearded and silent, casting fishing line into the water except for the one rowing. He was paddling to keep them upstream. Two lines whipped back and forth, opposing pendulums dancing across the water.