I lay awake at night, jet-lagged and annoyed at the party going on a couple of streets away. The music and the screams are so loud, they might as well come and have their feast right here next to our bed.
I lay awake and I think. It’s good to think without rush.
I lay on the pool side, watching the clouds go by. Cloudy sky doesn’t lie. It gives it straight to you. The dichotomy of life, the learning curve.
When I was younger, I would daydream very often — about what would come next, how I would feel if this or that would materialise. I don’t do that anymore, it doesn’t come anymore. Instead I stop to think about where I am at in my life, about every step taken — what a journey. I don’t dream about the future anymore — while I look forward to it, I don’t want to imagine it just yet. Where I am is plenty to think about.
I hadn’t realised it before, but a perk of getting older is that you have lived — and learnt. And if only at 38 I have learnt so much, imagine all that is still in store. The beauty of age.
I like it here. I like it back home too. I need both. Or do I? Maybe I keep telling this to myself to justify why I always go back to the city. Maybe if I let go, I would be happy to live at the beach forever.
My husband tells me if I change a single meaningful thing in my life, everything sets into motion. Maybe I should stop cleaning — yeah I am a clean freak. Real problems in life, right?
Getting there, bit by bit.
