I was walking today, thinking about a version of my life that feels like it belonged to someone else entirely.

There was a time when my calendar looked like a professional sport. Soccer games, baseball games, and grocery runs that required a strategy. Never ending house cleaning. Laundry that never, ever reached a finish line. Yards to mow. Carpools to coordinate. Plans stacked on top of plans with kids, friends, birthdays, school events, and the constant hum of being needed everywhere, all the time.

Back then, “busy” wasn’t a phase, it was my identity.

Today? My to-do list was almost comically simple.  Golf lesson, fix  my glasses and pick up a few birthday cards.

I went for a walk, grabbed lunch and did red light therapy because apparently I’m now the kind of woman who schedules things like “cellular rejuvenation” into her afternoon. And I topped it all off at the golf club with a martini, like a retired movie star who has nowhere important to be and exactly where she wants to sit.

This is my new life.

As I walked, Spotify did that eerily accurate thing where it plays music that feels like it knows you personally. The kind of songs that make you slow down and smile without realizing it. I found myself noticing the weather, the trees, the light, and the quiet space between footsteps, all while hoping to spot an alligator. 🐊 

And I felt grateful, not in a big, dramatic, gratitude-journal kind of way, but in a soft, settled way.  For a long time, I thought quiet meant something was missing.  I believed the empty spaces had to be filled with people, with plans, with noise, with love, with proof that my life was “full.” I chased fullness like it was a requirement, not a choice.

But lately, I’m realizing something that feels both strange and incredibly freeing.  I’m good with just me, too.  Not in a lonely way. In a grounded way. In a “look how far you’ve come” kind of way. The kind where you can walk through your day, listen to your own thoughts, sit with your own company, and actually enjoy who’s there.

I look at this version of my life, the calm, the space, the slower pace, and I’m a little amazed.

I don’t rush, over-schedule, or even need to prove I’m busy to feel valuable.  I am good just being.  And maybe that’s the most quietly confident thing I’ve ever learned to be.