Finally, a DAY OFF.
A day without jobs. A day without appointments. A day without anything really urgent to do, where I could just let my feet lead me wherever they felt the pull.
It was EXACTLY what I needed.
I dropped off baby girl at school. The clouds were parting, and the sun was already starting to kick in. I kinda drove aimlessly, yet at the same time knowing precisely where I was headed.
To the water.
I walked. I sat. I looked around. I thought. I felt the burn in my legs as I walked up stairs, up red-earth cliff faces that showed sand and dust so raw and bright as the earth’s core.
Later I went to the grocery shop… sure, a job, but I did it slowly, and ambled around the store, with more ‘me time’ in mind…
I got myself a takeaway coffee, and at home headed up to the balcony to research, edit and read and write, for almost 2 hours.
I felt at home. When everything else around me crumbles and falls, things don’t work out the way I’d like, and the future feels uncertain, confusing, and I feel lost… my writing makes me happy.
It’s that one guarantee, that one escape, that one thing, that makes me so light and free.
It makes me feel at home. The process brings me such joy, and I don’t even need to tell you what I did the rest of the day…
Because wandering, writing, musing. Bringing myself back to centre, made me, ME again. That is enough.