Sometimes you forget what it’s like to walk into your childhood home and have your mom greet you with a smile and open arms.
Sometimes you lean on the people in your village and ask for help and your problems are solved over beers and you tell the people who are important to you that they are important because life is too damn short not to tell people you love them and they matter.
Sometimes you move to your dream home and it takes you two years to go get your library card.
Sometimes you have to lose your stupid phone. On purpose. You put it in a drawer and realize no one is emailing or texting you really all that much and you are better off reading a library book and going to bed early.
Sometimes you make chicken salad twice in one week because it’s too damn good not to.
Sometimes you need to create things just for the autotelic pleasure of creating them. Not to sell them. Not to brag about it online. Just to make it and enjoy it.
Sometimes you’ll hear the soft sound of tiny feet padding the carpet and feel the miniature version of yourself slip into your bed in the early morning. You’ll hold that tiny person tight as these encounters are numbered and one day he won’t want to snuggle in your bed with you.
Sometimes it takes awhile to let things go and enjoy the adventure that you signed up to be a part of.