An accurate representation of my week, last week: long walks on an empty beach with a content dog and an amazing mom. Sun mixed with various layers of clouds, clouds that make the world feel smaller, warmer, cozier. No plans, no schedule, no agenda. Sleeping under piles of quilts and blankets. Fresh fruit and fresh fish and wine and dessert and old TV episodes, every day. Long runs down winding wooded roads. Yoga, inside, on rainy mornings. Naps, outside, on sunny afternoons. Hours of reading. Hours of talking. A quiet that’s almost too quiet, silence that makes your ears strain to hear something, anything. A true escape, to a tiny Michigan town, to a tiny cabin in the woods on the lake. Where everything is a little simpler, a little slower, a little more peaceful and a little more pure. Where the days seem longer because there’s somehow always enough time…to sleep in, to stay up late, to walk slow and run fast, to stop and just look at what’s around you, to reminisce, to really think, to breathe, to write. To feel. To just be.

A much-needed week off. To re-group and re-evaluate and relax.


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