I should be sleeping, but when the urge to write hits, I can’t ignore it! I’m closing out a day that I want to bottle up and never forget; one without plans that brought a beautiful wave of calm over me that I have been missing and needing.
April was fueled by adrenaline, woven together by sleepless transitions and stretching-our-limit trips; it was a cycle of such highs and sequential crashes. I’d feel guilty for feeling in a daze when I was surrounded by pinch-me moments and opportunities that I never could’ve dreamed of: 85th and 90th birthdays of my grandparents two weeks in a row. Two trips to Florida with family and lifelong friends. Meeting my newborn niece for the first time. Witnessing the first bookings of our new Caramelized airbnb experiences, whose pace drained me but drew so much inspiration I’m still wrapping my head around. Completing the final touches of our primary bathroom. Deciding dresses for my brother’s Italy wedding ahead. Two successful road trips, even if one wasn’t planned (a diverted flight made that decision for us). Filming dreaming partnerships.
Like, so much good, but so much that it overwhelmed me to the point of deep, debilitating exhaustion. Insert guilt, again!
And then, we woke up today to May, a month I’ve always loved and looked forward to.
And then, my children miraculously slept until 7 am for the first time in over a month.
And then, I watched in unexpected awe as the two of them played together in their toy kitchen, Ava crawling into the oven and Hudson balancing pots and pans above her bottom.
And then, I dropped them off at school earlier than I needed to, but I immediately chiseled away at a list of procrastinations that, one by one, metaphorically lifted a weight from my shoulders.
And then, I watched as the gray morning cleared to unexpected sunshine — perfect weather, pulling us outside as soon as pickup time arrived. We laughed and played on a trail and a new playground.
And then, somehow we managed to eat a (simple but) cooked meal all together, seated at our new patio table, for the very first time. I don’t even know if I said a word during those minutes at the table. I just watched in complete awe that, for so long, this is exactly what it was all about. As I recently wrote in Edible Memphis, family dinner was the core memory that I’ll always thank my parents for prioritizing. Here we were.
Here we are.
May brought the mental shift we—I—needed.
Or, perhaps, it’s the prompt of a new chapter, whether a month or a season, a new place or job, that makes us look at everything just a bit differently.
Thank you, May, for the new perspective.
