The Edge of Return

It’s the last day of vacation, and I can feel the shift, not just in the calendar, but in my spirit. There’s a knowing that once we drive home, life is going to feel different. And the truth is… I’m different now too.

This trip was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

For the first time in a long time, I felt calm. That first morning I woke up and realized there was nowhere I needed to be and nothing I had to do, it was like my nervous system exhaled. At home, I’m constantly juggling a dozen roles and racing to keep up. But here… I was allowed to just be.

Midweek, my boyfriend and I took a quiet walk to the beach before bed. We chatted, and then we didn’t. A silence settled in. Not the uncomfortable kind, the sacred kind. He stood beside me, and I just stared into the ocean. I felt it in my bones: life is about to change. Everything slowed down in that moment. Like time was pausing to let me catch my breath before crossing a threshold.

There was joy too, especially in the unexpected places. One night over dinner in a crowded room, I asked my boyfriend’s son what his favorite part of the day was. He looked up and said, “Playing with you.” That moment cracked something open in me. It was so small, but so sacred. My boyfriend and I both knew what that moment meant to me.

Of course, with the stillness came waves of emotion. Some harder to sit with, like anxiety. The sudden awareness of what I’m walking away from (still privately, for now) and what I’m walking toward. The fear that still lingers around such a big leap.

But beneath the fear, something louder spoke: validation.
Everywhere I turned this week, I was met with reminders that I am exactly where I’m meant to be. I’m on the right path. I trust that now. Not just mentally, but in my body. In the quiet. In the woods. In the ocean mist on my face. I felt it.

That’s when I realized, I need it all. The magic of the lavender farm and its tiny fairy castles. The vastness of the sea at night. The wild, the soft, the still, the roaring. I need all of it. And more than that… I can create all of it. Because it lives in me now.

The joy I saw in my boyfriend’s son’s face reminded me what it’s all about. I’m building this not just for me, but for him. For our kids. For the next generation. For anyone who needs a place to breathe again. He may not be biologically mine, but the love and legacy I hope to leave will belong to him, too.

As I return home, I carry one thing above all else: confidence.
In my vision.
In my intuition.
In who I am becoming.

This is who I was meant to be. I don’t have to prove anything anymore. I just have to keep showing up, heart open, feet steady, voice clear.

I’ll see you on the other side of the threshold.

With love and trust,
Kelley