The Quiet Between Tides

I drove to the beach last night and watched the sun disappear into the horizon, as if it were slipping away with secrets it refused to tell. This morning, I rose before the world stirred and watched it return—quiet, certain, unchanged. There is something comforting in knowing that even after darkness, light finds its way back.

I’m learning the language of solitude. The stillness has a voice if you listen closely enough. It’s becoming my new normal. I follow my intuition now—it knows things my mind cannot explain. I sit with my feelings as they drift in and out, like waves that arrive without asking and leave without apology. Sadness and happiness walk beside each other here, and I no longer ask either one to leave.

I’m releasing the past, not all at once, but in quiet moments no one else can see. Accepting it was never meant to follow me where I’m going. Respecting it for what it revealed… and what it took. I’m meeting myself again, slowly. Remembering that choosing myself was never selfish—it was simply forgotten.

There are things I am leaving behind. Old ties. Old weight. Old versions of me. My marriage. The worries that once lived in my chest. Anything that dims my light no longer knows my name.

Something is shifting. I can feel it.

From here, there will be happiness. Fulfillment. Love that arrives without force. New souls who recognize me without explanation. And beneath it all… peace.

I don’t need to chase it anymore.

It’s already finding me