I took Hubbie off the beaten track today.
It was a path I ventured down with baby girl some weeks ago. It’s in a popular location, between a big park and a beach.
But the winding, narrow, and pretty path, overrun with shrubs and spring flowers climbing along jagged orange rock, still feels like it’s taking you to someplace special.
And it does.
It was so quiet. It almost felt like it was ours, what with the still air, softly lapping waves, and sun beating down and blinding us as we shielded our eyes.
But people were dotted throughout. Locals, like us.
The pensioners who came around the corner, greetings coming forth happily as their small and excitable dog tried to sprint down the stairs towards the water.
The woman in exercise gear, who kept running up and down the steep path, trying to beat her last sprint every time. She placed a rock at the end of the path each time she made it down, keeping count of her fitness.
The young Mum with her toddler in the waters below, chasing after him as he went from sand to water. Scooping him up in her arms before carrying him to where he needed to be.
It was all so peaceful, so perfect. We stood there, taking it all in, looking at all we had missed out on in the last few months.
And accepting all the beauty that was yet to come. Better. Brighter.