Waking up was now something she fully felt. Her knees a bit stiff, her feet a bit unstable, her back like a snail uncoiling itself slowly. Such a difference to not even that long ago to be fair! Where had time gone? And with it all her possibilities.
People say that you are never too old, that you should always do stuff and they are right, but somehow she did not bring herself to step out of her routine. She dreaded the routine, but at the same time it was comforting, she liked knowing how the day was mapped out, ticking things off a to-do list.
While brushing her teeth, she got this sudden thought that this is what her life had been. Ticking things off a to-do list. And she had done well.
Her family, her babies, surviving herself and the world. It might seem the bare minimum to somebody looking from the outside, but to her, it was the greatest accomplishment. Being able to lead a ‘normal’ life.
She heard somebody say at some point that romance novels were like porn for women. Even now she gets angry thinking about it, although, even if she does not want to admit it she understands what they meant. The unrealistic expectations, the burden put on your partner to live up to a fantasy, yeah she gets that.
But still, romance novels are what make the world go round, as otherwise women would just give up and stop searching for that something they intuitively know exists.
It is unusual to be at this stage of life, when you are not old, but not young, you still have dreams, but the time to fulfill them seems to shrink way too fast making them seem even more unattainable.
‘What to do, what to do?’, she asked herself while putting on her boots ready to leave the house.
It was still dark outside and the air was not neither cold, nor warm. It was perfumed by the first signs of spring and bird song vibrated on the mild wind. Such beauty, such peace!
She trotted along the small path to the village, enjoying the silence outside and working to quieten the noise within. As a young woman she had learnt that the inner voice needs to be talked to, advised and reassured, not stifled, as otherwise she would burst and become useless to herself and everyone around her.
The moon high up, the birds and the wind. The distant roar of the flowing river, all came together in her chest and in perfect communion gave her the peace she was hoping for. Now, she could handle it.
In no time she was on Main Street opening up the back door to her little artisan bakery. Soon, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and scones will envelop her, and the world will become even better.
She was about to tell herself ‘Thank God for small miracles!’, she did that sometimes, but then she stopped herself, becoming fully aware that actually this was a huge miracle, to be there, in that moment, doing what she was doing, owning herself.
More than she could have ever hoped for or expected.
Sometimes, for some of us, our day to day is the miracle, we just need to remember to wonder at it and not to forget where we are coming from.