The house looks put together as the sun goes down. I look around at all the order and remembered the times I wished for perfection, cleanliness and shiny floors. No dishes around, all the laundry done and the bathroom counters clean.

I’d trade it all back now in an instant. Sticky walls, crumbs and fridge smudges.

All of it.

I sit and wonder what’s next for me, in this neatly put-together place.

I long for the past, but it’s gone. I can’t park myself in that space forever. Only look back with a heart of gratefulness. The present and future is what I have in my hands now.

So, I’ll shift. I’ll re-invent and keep moving forward with purpose and passion because I know there’s still so much to do, and to give.

But every now and again, I’ll sit and look back. Dream about the dancing shadows on the walls, the years of little arms around my neck and all the days of precious love-lived-life that meant everything to me.

Our babies, and now theirs. It means everything still.

All of it.

And there is still incredible life to live. This reluctant next act. The second-half living that no one really prepares you for, because it’s complicated and your heart often breaks – while also being filled with joy and all the glorious messy things of life.

I’ve decided to make it great. Whatever it looks like. And carry on what we began all those days in the past that we loved, because that’s what it was full of.


I’ll mourn what’s been, yet still look ahead with joy. Because all the days, have been the best ones.

And, the ones to come.
Will be the best ones too.
All of them.