I always underestimate how much weather influences my well-being. It is a beautiful sunny Sunday today. We hit the playground in the morning, splashed a bit in the fountain on the way home and now my son is out in the back planting some seeds while I get to do some housework (and sneaking some me-time in). What can I say, it has been a long haul: a long winter, followed by a cold spring. A restless year had really taken a toll on us. And now I can feel something shifting. The suitcases are finally empty. Only two unpacked boxes left.
Everyone around us is planning their summer vacation. Dreaming of going away.
I am still dreaming of actually being here. I think it will be a stay-cation for us. Just being in one place. A place that happens to be ours for now. Summer in the city with yoga on the riverbank, lots of ice cream, hitting the ‚beach bar‘, checking out some concerts (aka opening the kitchen window, since it happens two houses over from us) and slowing down.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I glimpse the ocean, hear the sea gulls,… sometimes we would have the bedroom window open, chimes, a fresh breeze blowing in. Then it feels strange wanting to be at home here, so far away from the West Coast.
But it is too hard to be in two places at once. Too much division, back and forth, too many doubts.
So instead of making travel plans, I keep asking others where they are heading, marvelling at all these possibilities. At the same time I know, when I close my eyes, I am once again standing at the edge of the ocean. Breathing in the vastness spreading out before me…