This past week, we have all been a little bit reflective.
Perhaps it's in the air as temperature slowly drops and I glance at the sweaters in my closet, hopeful. Knitting needles that sit in the corner call out to me to pick them up, play, create.
Perhaps it's because of our conversations. The husband and I, on the couch with coffee in hand where we talk about finding balance between a job you love and a job that provides. It's here that we reflect.
Perhaps it was the time we spent roaming lost in a maze with family. Was it there amidst decisions and wondering do we turn left, right, or keep moving forward. Was in then that I began thinking. Wondering. Remembering.
We study and look forward to our new adventures, but we've been remembering the ones from where we have come. This week I think we all missed it a little. We missed the thrill that the road, the unknown brought us.
We began to miss the freedom. The quietness. The desire to loosen our grip: not be tied down to job or things or place.
We miss that slowness of life. We miss the people we met, heard their stories and then said goodbye to as they travelled to make more.
I sit here wondering, how can I cultivate this kind of life here. In our little cottage. How do I get things to slow down? What adventures are we to live? What story is being written?