Peace

The count down to when I leave this place in France is always so difficult. It has been every time. But this time, it’s a little different. I sit on my balcony to write for the first time, rather than in a café. The wind is icy, but the sky is cloudless and the sun is warm on my back. I look out and see only gentle movement. Trees surround my apartment, softly swaying in the breeze, and there is a pool, bright blue, rippling away beside a little patio. I can hear the sounds of other apartments making lunch, a clashing of pots and spoons. The air has the smell of fried butter and spices.

Finally, towards the end of my trip, I can sit in my own apartment and feel peace. It’s something that I have not felt for a long time. Maybe this is how you know that you’re home? You feel able to relax, without the need to move or change or achieve. You somehow know that all of that will come naturally, as you sink into the present moment.

Today’s entry is short. Sometimes, I simply cannot express the words that I feel about the beautiful things I’m going through… but I will eventually, and I’ll come back to write about it then.