Have you ever laid eyes on something and been quite certain you’ve never seen anything so beautiful? The rational part of the brain tells us that this thought is, of course, not founded in reality. You’ve seen other things equally, if not more, beautiful than what is in front of your eyes at that moment, so it just simply can’t be true. But the soul tells us something entirely different.

There really is no word in this English language that captures this type of feeling, so I used to say, “oof, my heart” when it occurred and you would instantly understand, without further explanation. A silly little phrase written in our own language, but one that had more meaning to us than anything in Webster’s.

I had a pretty major “oof” on a recent trip to New Brunswick. Despite growing up just outside of Boston, I had never been to Canada save a trip to Niagara Falls as a kiddo. Coastlines are hard for me to resist, particularly ones I’ve never explored, and a nine-hour road-trip sounded right up my alley.

Arriving to the cottage in Petit-Rocher-Sud, I was impressed. A cozy little one-bedroom guesthouse, it sat right on the water and next to a pen of enclosed ducks, chickens, and a donkey. Adorable and quaint with views to die for, AND a donkey neighbor?! Perfection.

I settled in and unpacked, went and said hello to my new animal friends, and decided on a dinner spot called Bistro Coeur d’Artishow. Described by online as a “bistro meets art gallery meets music venue” and that is precisely what I got upon walking in. The walls were covered in eclectic art pieces and the antique light fixtures intermingled with the setting sunshine creating a golden, ethereal glow. the entire place had a quirky, yet warm, atmosphere.

One of the owners, Michele, was breezing around the room; touching base with diners, suggesting dishes, and detailing the specials. He introduced himself as he sat me at a small table, wondering who i would be meeting. upon telling him i was a solo traveler, his face lit up and he insisted on a couple of stories, which I willingly shared. we bonded over our mutual love of wine and he insisted I sample as many as I desired to ensure I selected my favorite. he asked if i was picky, hungry, or famished, as he had food recommendations for all the aforementioned options, all the while smiling and radiating infectious energy. i had him choose my dinner, the famished option, which ended up being a buddha bowl of sorts with lots of fresh, seasonal goodies. His engagement was so warm, so welcoming, familial. He even made me a special dessert sampler, so I could taste both his homemade cheesecake (yes, please!) and the local classic, brown sugar pie (wow!). I enjoyed my time at his inimitable spot sharing his table, his love of food, and his presence.

My first “Oof” in New Brunswick and it didn’t involve a landscape, or a sunset, but a human interaction. My time with Michele, although limited, was connected and his kindness resonated with me. He made me feel as if I were his only guest, despite the room being full, and his desire to share his passion for food and hosting was infectious. his curiosity about my story was sincere and he was quick to notice, and point out, a subtle melancholic undertone to the “levity and light” i brought into the room.

but I didn’t tell him about you. It’s not because you weren’t on my mind, because you most certainly were, but our conversation just didn’t lean that way. I realized on the drive back to the states a few days later that for the first time since you’ve been gone, I didn’t self-identify as the “girl who lost her person.” I engaged with Michele as, well, me; someone who keeps you inside of them always, but is growing into their own person.

It was an overwhelming realization that left me at once nostalgic and hopeful for the future. Oof, my heart.