This Is My Beautiful Life
I’ve made a moment and I want to hold onto it.
It’s my last morning in Denver. I slept in to the late hour of 7 o’clock. I’m back in my tiny space where I’m finally getting to a little work after leisurely reading for a while. Two cups of coffee in.
I’ve settled into a nice little ritual. For the last four mornings, I haven’t talked to another human being until at least 10am.
The only noise I’ve had all morning is the clinking of a downstairs neighbor’s breakfast plates, cars passing by on the street and piano music coming from my phone in the next room.
I’ve grown accustomed to the smell of the old building. Like someone’s grandmother if she smoked weed on a regular basis and burned incense while she did it.
The dog in the apartment across the courtyard never barks. Just sits on the back of the couch every morning, watching me do this.
I feel incredibly happy. Calm. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way, if ever.
I’m not going to lie, though. I’m fending off the anxiety of heading home and back to real life. I have to make a concerted effort to breathe in and out and try to keep the calm. It’s shouldn’t be this hard. Leave it to me to piss all over a perfectly good moment. It’s just that I want this to be real life.
I called my best friend yesterday while I was walking around Capitol Hill on my way to get dinner. She said I sounded different. She said she could hear my happy. She’s right. I feel different. I feel amazing.
For the first time in a very long time my mind is incredibly quiet. I have effortlessly written every morning. I go hours without looking at my phone.
I want to keep this sense of serenity. I want to keeping moving about my life with purpose. Space needs to be cleared. A plan needs to be put in place.
I check my bank account. I check my retirement account. I check what I owe on my mortgage. I do the math. It could happen. It’ll take a few years, but it’ll happen. Slowly.
I came to Denver without a single plan. I have done absolutely nothing the whole time I have been here. Sure, I wandered around and looked at buildings and watched people, ate delicious food and drank a bottle of good wine. Really, I just lived. I gave myself the permission to not feel a single expectation.
I didn’t come here to be busy. I didn’t come to check things off of my list that I felt I should see. I just came to sit still for a few days. To reset and adjust. No fancy spas, no poolside cocktails. Just quiet.
I’ve made myself a beautiful life. It’s here. It’s with me, inside me, and it’s worth holding onto even if it seems a bit intangible right now.
This is, by far, the greatest gift I have given myself in a very long time.